The Trouble With Fuck Faces: part two

The Trouble With Fuck Faces: part one

[Fuck faces are everywhere–you know, those special groups of people who’ve been slugged in the face with a heavy bag full of fuck, and they’ve allowed that fuck to fuck up their lives forever. Their sole purpose becomes spreading the disease. They’re similar to dickheads, who run around hitting people with bags of dicks for shits and giggles.]

Even small, neat, calm neighborhoods are blighted by fuck faces on occasion. Last summer, my husband and I were befriended by new neighbors directly next door. At first meeting, they were quite talkative, and seemed polite, so of course, I immediately suspected them of habitual fuck uppery. Because growing up, my dad always told me, “When someone you don’t know too well is especially nice to you, you’ve got to ask yourself, what does this person want from me?

Damn, dad. Paranoid much? 

Puff-puff-pass, you know what I’m sayin’? For but for realz, the truth is my dad is not paranoid. He’s experienced. He’s observant. He possesses a keen insight that surpasses the human level. He’s bad ass. I’ve learned from the bestest. So these fuck faces next door…yeah, they’re the fuckest upppest, and I knew it all along.

“We’re shady fuck faces, so we’re polite to the nines.”

Gladys Kravitz. The nosy neighbor of Darrin and Samantha Stephens (Bewitched). I’m a goddamned Gladys, folks. Jim isn’t any better. Both of us are at the living room window, peaking through the blinds whenever we hear any signs of life at the rental house to the south of us. It’s normally just their dog, barking his fuck face face off. Yeah, even the dog is a fuck face. The postmen won’t deliver the mail anymore because they are afraid of the dog, who is always outside.

So this is my beef: these fuck faces, over the winter, had decided not park in their fucking driveway, but cruise on between our two houses, cutting far over the property line to park in their backyard. Our lawn has been murdered by the various vehicles that frequent their place. I mean, what the actual fuck is happening over there??? I will tell you!

Jim and I recently purchased a car, and we ordered a Persian Gulf veteran license plate for it. When the plate arrived in the mail, Jim attached it, proud as fuck–as he should be. The lady neighbor happened to be outside, so Jim said, “Finally got ‘er legal.” To which Shady Lady replied, “Yeah, that’s why we’ve been parking behind our house. We will be legal this weekend.” Guess what? It’s been three weeks, and they are still being creepers.

I hate them, and I want to junk punch them. Over the winter, their stupid fucking big ass inflatable swimming pool blew into our yard. The fuck faces LEFT IT THERE, killing our grass. First of all, who in their right mind leaves an inflatable pool (empty or not) standing during a Mid-West winter??? Second of all, what the actual fuck is wrong with people??? I want to ask them, but they are gone early in the morning before I can pry myself out of bed, and come home late at night–by that time, I’m sleeping.

So, this is what shady fuck faces do. They blow sunshine up your ass, talk your ears off–build a friendly relationship–just so they can destroy your fucking lawn, and run drugs or some shit out of their house while you look on, smiling and waving like a goddamned idiot.

Published by Kindra M. Austin

Author of fiction, poetry, and very sweary social commentary. Editor, and co-founder of Indie Blu(e) Publishing. Co-founder of Blood Into Ink, and Heretics, Lovers, and Madmen.

12 thoughts on “The Trouble With Fuck Faces: part two

  1. We’ve been reasonably lucky with our neighbours. There have been issues over the years but nothing that major. For a while though, the people right next to us – our houses are joined – moved abroad for years and rented out their house. There were a number of tenants, a few I can’t even recall ’cause they were quiet and nondescript. But we had the beautiful couple with their new baby who were so friendly and cool that I even considered baking them a cake! Unfortunately all was not as rosy as it appeared. Wife beating Wanker! Then there was the woman and her wee boy. My kids and I joked that she’d stolen him as she was awful but he was an adorable kid who would stand and watch us over the wall. He just wanted to play. She eventually erected an extreme fence which we named “the cage”…and then moved out. Personally I loved it when the drummer moved in, even with the parties that went on til the early hours. I’ve never minded that.

    Our house is a state. It’s in need of a huge facelift, looks shabby and I’m frustrated because we can’t afford to repair or do anything to it.

    Therefore, I’m pretty sure that WE’RE the biggest fuckfaces in our street.

    Liked by 1 person

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