Neighbors… can’t live with ’em, can’t bump ’em off without serious jail time, amirite?
When I first saw my two-story dream house on Sycamore Drive, I knew right away this was the house for me. And by me, of course I mean myself, my 3 beautiful children, and my lumbering beast of a husband Carl. Now, Carl is a lovely man, but a little lacking in the “reading people” category, which is why he didn’t have the same visceral disgust at the neighbors that I did shortly after we moved in. You see, I am a heart-centered intuitive person, which means that I can read people super quickly, and judge them accordingly.
The first time I laid eyes on Kim and Mark, they were eating McDonalds. I’m almost certain that I don’t have to tell you that I’m very much a vegan, in fact, I don’t even look at animals unless I have their explicit written consent- which of course they cannot give, seeing as we haven’t put nearly enough energy into creating writing instruments that don’t rely on the privilege of fingers. Anyway, the moment I saw them I knew that these were “bad apple” types, in the sense that they probably let their apples go bad as they stuff their greedy faces with low vibe fuels like Nutella and Coke.
I never wanted a Christmas tree, because to rip a tree out of the land is much like ripping a child from the swollen nipple of its mother- not only profane, but heedlessly cruel as well. However, Mark got to Carl after a rousing morning of chatting over snow shovels, which is how I ended up with a monstrous wood-and-needled corpse in my living room, the cloying scent of pine and regret permeating most of my oriental luxury rugs. To add insult to injury, Carl brought our three children, Aiden, Kaiden, and Saturdayden to get said tree in an attempt to “surprise” me.
Bless Carl’s heart, I did attempt to do my best not to make too big of a scene, after all, the kids were happy (even though they were getting all the wrong lessons about the sanctity of life.)
However now that Christmas is over I have this massive reminder of my shame to try and dispose of before the world opens up again and I’m able to have my equally wealthy white-lady friends over for kombucha and oracle card night. Which got me to thinking, maybe there are some ways to dispose of this thing in a way that will also cause the neighbors to feel like shit, much as I have these past few weeks.
Idea #1: Take all the needles off and save them in a bucket. Every time the neighbors have an occasion that requires celebration, dump all the needles into their car like Eco-friendly zero-waste confetti.
Idea #2: Use the tree as camouflage so I can walk to the car without having to engage in petty conversation (Kim always says “hi”, rest assured, I see what game she’s playing).
Idea #3: Dress the tree up in flowing robes and position it right outside their bedroom window every night. This should put an end to their amorous routines that make Carl ask me why we haven’t linked our sacred geometries in such a long time (it’s because I am saving myself for the pure bliss of eventual enlightenment, duh). Hide again in the morning.
Idea #4: Save it in the garage and give it to them as a gift next year. This year they gave us a charcuterie board. DID I MENTION I AM A VEGAN? These people are literally the worst.
Idea #5: Whittle the branches into long sticks and paddles. Drug both Kim and Mark and then tie them up in my basement. Every time I get hungry for a Big Mac or an Oh Henry, instead I will go downstairs and flog the ever-loving shit out of them to make myself feel better.
Idea #6: Set fire to the tree in their backyard. Then call bylaw.
Idea #7: Get a wood chipper and use it to blow wood chips all over their property. Inject the wood chips with a rare flesh-eating bacteria so that Kim’s plump, non-vegan ass gets completely ruined.
Idea #8: Use the tree as an excuse to get the wood chipper. *Get rid* of Carl. Blame Mark and Kim.
There you have it folks! When life gives you a tree, betrayal, and a horrible set of neighbors (they’re literally knocking at my door right now to collect bottles for their kindergartner’s bottle drive, these people are pure evil and borderline insane I tell you!), just find a way to take your circumstances into your own hands and mold them into positive life-enhancing lessons. Cheers!
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