Yes, if there's one thing that all Unsocial Neighbours have in common, its that they spend an abnormally large amount of time in the garden (probably growing massive hedges around the perimeter of their house so they can spy on their neighbours). But one Thursday morning while my family and I were out gardening (much to my displeasure), little did we know that Unsocial Neighbour was lurking nearby.
I had just finished sweeping the driveway and was working my way down to the carport, when Dad thought it would be funny to jump into the bin with all the sticks and twigs and pretend he was being attacked by Triffids (if you're not sure what Triffids are, I recommend you read The Day of the Triffids by John Wyndham - book review below!). To make the event even more humiliating, 5 minutes later, an elderly lady ran across to our house, panting, and asked if we had seen someone being attacked in the neighbourhood, because she heard someone yelling 'Help!' Apparently she had searched the entire street.
Dad began laughing really awkwardly and explained that he was the one crying for help, but it was just a joke. The lady didn't really say anything, but then she didn't need to. Her eyes said it all. They said 'If you mess around with me one more time, I'll have a heart attack and die, and throw you into hell with me.'
Maybe her stare wasn't that terrifying, but she definitely wasn't impressed by Dad's behaviour. 10 minutes later he jumped into the bin again and performed his little scene. Another lady walked by and surreptitiously motioned her daughter forward on the path, eyeing Dad as if he had contracted some kind of bizarre disease.
All while this was happening, Unsocial Neighbour was in his very own garden, deliberately camouflaging himself behind a bush. In fact, I found him in the reflection of the window at the front of our house, or otherwise I wouldn't have known if he was there or not. But he knew we were there; that's probably why he kept shooshing his son every time he kept talking. It was very queer - it makes you believe that Unsocial Neighbour would go out of his way just to not talk to us. Maybe he finds my family really strange - well anyone would after reading about what Dad did. Maybe I'll go live with Unsocial Neighbour and his family from now on.
I had just finished sweeping the driveway and was working my way down to the carport, when Dad thought it would be funny to jump into the bin with all the sticks and twigs and pretend he was being attacked by Triffids (if you're not sure what Triffids are, I recommend you read The Day of the Triffids by John Wyndham - book review below!). To make the event even more humiliating, 5 minutes later, an elderly lady ran across to our house, panting, and asked if we had seen someone being attacked in the neighbourhood, because she heard someone yelling 'Help!' Apparently she had searched the entire street.
Dad began laughing really awkwardly and explained that he was the one crying for help, but it was just a joke. The lady didn't really say anything, but then she didn't need to. Her eyes said it all. They said 'If you mess around with me one more time, I'll have a heart attack and die, and throw you into hell with me.'
Maybe her stare wasn't that terrifying, but she definitely wasn't impressed by Dad's behaviour. 10 minutes later he jumped into the bin again and performed his little scene. Another lady walked by and surreptitiously motioned her daughter forward on the path, eyeing Dad as if he had contracted some kind of bizarre disease.
All while this was happening, Unsocial Neighbour was in his very own garden, deliberately camouflaging himself behind a bush. In fact, I found him in the reflection of the window at the front of our house, or otherwise I wouldn't have known if he was there or not. But he knew we were there; that's probably why he kept shooshing his son every time he kept talking. It was very queer - it makes you believe that Unsocial Neighbour would go out of his way just to not talk to us. Maybe he finds my family really strange - well anyone would after reading about what Dad did. Maybe I'll go live with Unsocial Neighbour and his family from now on.