Life In New Crackton

  • Posted on: 29 June 2014
  • By: Shawn DeWolfe

When we moved into our neighbourhood, it was largely nice. The next door neighbour liked to try to make his motorcycle work (he can’t accomplish despite six years of trying). A couple doors up, we had an irrigation company going with a number of crews who all would park their pick-ups on the street while they were off installing irrigation systems. What the Hell, Victoria? Why are there so many web designers, irrigation companies and nail estheticians? I’m not sure, though Breaking Bad seemed to have a take on it (More on that theory). Eventually, they sold and moved to irrigate from another locale. The nice old lady next door got old enough to have to move to a care facility. The place went up for sale. It was a mish mash of shag carpet, small rooms and press board. It sold cheap. A “gentleman who would rent distressed properties” (GWWRDP) bought it. He did some extensive non-permitted renovations; and then moved in a bunch of chuckeheads who had two cars apiece (what monkey boy? Do you wear the cars one per foot as shoes?). Eventually, they moved out and took their many cars with them. The next tenant was a quiet guy who didn’t even own a car (bliss!). But he also attracted police attention for some unknown practices. He eventually skipped on his rent. GWWRDP, in an example of sound management, could only gain access to his own property by kicking in the garage door. I didn’t know who this guy kicking in the garage was, so I called the cops because it looked like some guy breaking into the place (which is what it was). The police tracked the guy down and it was “okay” according to the police. I don’t know how he carries around property ownership bona fides, but not a set of keys.

A few months ago, GWWRDP rented to some guy who might do oil tank installations, or he hauls junk… or who know what he does. Let’s call him, “High Risk Harry.” Whatever his career, his avocation is collecting crap or all sorts. The short (and incomplete) list looks like this:
  • air ducts
  • bricks
  • baby carriages
  • motorcycles
  • bicycles
  • TVs
  • stoves
  • couches
  • clothes
  • chairs
  • windows
  • doors
  • support beams
  • hot tubs
  • a 30’ camper
  • the front half of one pick-up
  • the back half of another pick-up
All of this stuff was strewn on the streets, their front lawn and the back lawn. The hot tub sits on a back deck that, when empty, sits on an angle creaking from its own weight. I am awaiting some long weekend when they fire up the hot tub, load it full of people and enjoy it for 30 minutes until the deck gives way or the electrical system shorts out (or both). They run tweaker hours so they're hauling stuff at 1AM and 6AM and 2PM and 10PM, etc.

Hoarding is the least of their problems. High Risk Harry has a lot of high risk friends and associates. One woman looks like she’s 75, but likely she’s 35 plus being a substance aficionado. Two women (let’s call them “Tweedle Hag” and “Tweedle Scrag”) who own dogs (one is named, “Trouble”) almost live here. They have not heard of leashes, so the dogs run free. The dogs menace children and women with children. High Risk Harry flipped out on one of the neighbours and accused her of poisoning the dogs. These dogs free-ball it through the countryside and they likely eat anything. Maybe the dogs picked up an STD? High Risk Harry vowed revenge.

There has been at least one police incident in the last few months. It's not uncommon to see them come by. While I was out a month or so ago, several police swooped in to get a stolen bike and the bike's thief. I don't know about you, but I have about ZERO police raids per decade. Maybe I'm just lacking in Vitamin P (P for police raid).

One of their fave tricks is parking all over the place. They’ll block our driveway. They parked in our driveway when they thought we were out of town (it’s super when persons-known-to-police keep track of when your house is unoccupied). One of them parked their bicycle outside of my daughter’s bedroom window. My wife came home last week to discover one of the chimpmobiles blocking the driveway. When my wife honked for them to move the car, they came out and had a fit on her. Tweedle Hag and Tweedle Scrag started yelling and freaking out. High Risk Harry called her a retard and a c*nt (No, he didn’t use an asterisk. He cannot pronounce, “asterisk.”). He will threaten my neighbours when she is alone. High Risk Harry will threaten my wife and daughter when I am not there. He’s a hero, through and through, that High Risk Harry.

The next day, GWWRDP showed up. It was the first time I had met this guy (likely his pickup ends up on they advertised for sublets.

Last updated date

Tuesday, June 13, 2017 - 18:46