junkman69

Ann’s father, who was driving up from Florida, invited us to dinner as a thank you for taking his daughter in when she was in need. I was excited to finally meet the man whose email address was Junkman69. She didn't seem to share the same excitement; actually, she looked pretty scared. I asked if he was going to have a problem with my race or sexuality. She assured me that she more concerned with I thought of her father than what her father thought of me.

We met at DAKS, a local restaurant owned by a friend. My honey and I were seated just a few minutes before they arrived. Although in his late fifties, he was in great shape, good health, and seemed very youthful. He was decked in jeans and a Puerto Rico Harley t-shirt (in my honor). A variety of topics were discussed, and as the evening went on, I could see Ann sinking in her chair. I leaned over and told her, “I love your dad.”

My favorite statements of the evening, which I now interject at all dinner functions, were “Ann’s mother, she’s a bitch.” and “My boxers stand on the picnic table and bark at the blacks.” But these comments pale in comparison to the story he told us regarding his neighbors.

An Asian family moved into the house on the adjoining property. A few weeks after they moved in, the Junkman's sleep was interrupted by several roosters' crows. He spoke with the neighbors and asked them to get rid of the birds who were disturbing his peace. He expected his neighbors to comply, but a few days later, the birds were still there.

The Junkman then spoke with the owner of the house who assured him that the birds would be gone. A few days later, the birds were still there.

A complaint call to the local humane society resulted in a visit, a citation, and order for the birds to be removed, but to no avail, as the birds were still there.

The Junkman got more upset with each passing day and decided to take care of the problem by himself … well, maybe with a little help.

One night, he stayed up until 2 a.m. and decided to stretch his legs in the yard before going to bed. Soon after, as he climbed into bed with his wife, he knew that his sleep would be nterrupted, yet again, but not by roosters.

The next morning, he was startled awake by panicked knocks on his front door. All the birds were killed in a "freak accident” by the Junkman’s boxers, who somehow managed to jump the fence that contained them for years without incident. Hmmm …

Things were pretty cold between the neighbors for the next weeks, but the Junkman was okay with that as long as he had a good night's sleep. A few weeks later, the birds were back. The Junkman decided there was only one thing he could do to assure the birds would disappear from the neighbor’s yard for good.

A week later, the new owner of the house knocked on the neighbor’s door, served them with eviction papers, and demanded that they get rid of the birds by the end of the day. Finally, the problem was solved ... er ... eradicated.

Ann stayed with us for only six months, and in the that time, I made sure we were very nice to her because I didn't want the Junkman to buy our rental home and have us evicted.

Vicious Boxers?