My Neighbors the Strangers

My Neighbors the Strangers

It had been a long time since there was any activity in the house next door. That place had sat empty for 5 years. No one living there since my old neighbors, Doris and Dan had been found dead inside. That had been a gruesome murder-suicide situation. The wife, Doris had apparently been using the ex (I mean ex as ex-living.) as stew meat. Well...I'm assuming as stew meat as I don't think I ever saw her out back grilling. She still had a freezer full of him when I guess she felt she had her fill of him and ate a bullet instead.

I get a little freaked out when I think about my old neighbors. They had invited me over for a dinner party a time or two. I never did make it over but now I think, I don't even want to contemplate about what or who I might have been chowing on if I had accepted.

Hanging out in my robe watching the activity out my front window I watch my new neighbors moving in. After seeing a few truckloads of stuff getting unloaded next door I decided that I ought to at least go and greet the new neighbors.

By the time I made myself presentable and meandered next door the driveway was empty. To make an honest attempt at being hospitable I ambled up to the front door and gave it a knock. A surprisingly attractive woman opened the door and greeted me. "HI, you must be the neighbor who has been eyeballing us all morning. My name is Darla", she said. But quickly added, "And you are?"

Darla was a cute little thing presenting herself in tight fitting shorts and a low cut blouse. Reminding myself "Be nice and talk to the face" I said, "My name is Jake. I didn't mean to be the nosy neighbor but I haven't had anybody next door for a long time."

As we are standing there exchanging pleasantries another U-Haul moving truck backed into the driveway. Out jumped a swarthy, good looking guy who ran up to us at the front door. At this point Darla announced, "And here is my husband Dave." I couldn't help myself from thinking, "What are the chances of getting two sets of double D's living next door?" After greetings all around I offered my services to help unload the truck.

As Dave and I climbed into the truck I noticed the guy had heavily muscled shoulders, arms, forearms and neck. So I asked, "Dave what is it you do for a living?"

Dave flashes me a smile as he replies, I'm a butcher by trade and this last truck is filled with the tools of my trade." He adds, "I'm looking to open my own butcher shop down on Main Street as soon as I can find a shop for rent. I'll be specializing in exotic meats like venison, buffalo, ostrich and monkey meat"

"Monkey meat?" Why would he mention that I thought?  Then another random thought pops into my head, "What, another butcher moves next door?"

Dave and I started unloading the truck and filling the garage with his stuff as Darla directed the placement of our burdens. We finally get down to the last item, an oversized and particularly heavy butcher block table. Dave, with his bulging muscles seemed to be barely breaking a sweat while I could feel my shirt sticking to my back. As Darla gives us instructions I shuffle my end of the table around a number of items we had unloaded earlier when I stumble a bit and the table slips from my hands.

"Arrrgh" I shout as I shake my right hand back and forth a few times with a splatter of blood flying with every shake. I steady myself after a moment and view the carnage of the ripped nail on my index finger.

Already stepping towards the door, "OH dear! I'll get a bandage" says Darla . As Dave steps around his end of the table towards me he proclaims, "That nail is going to have to come off. You can't leave it that way hanging out there to catch on everything. That's asking for a world of hurt."

As I examine the damaged finger I know that hand is going to be good for nothing for a couple of weeks. That's when Dave makes his proposal. "Jake look it, put your hand down on the table and I'll clean that finger right up."

Not having any better options at the moment I put my hand down on the butcher block. Before I could think twice about it Dave had a fillet knife out, (I couldn't even tell you where he had materialized that from.) he drew a quick and precise semi-circle along the cuticle of the damaged finger and just as quickly plucked the dead nail off.

Darla appears at my side as I ponder the spreading puddle of blood around my finger and I swear I hear her mumble, "What a waste." Before I can protest she grabs my hand. I'm stunned as she immediately guides my busted finger into her mouth and gives it a suck or two before she pulls it back out and starts to bandage it right away. As she is busy fixing things up she says, "You're so sweet...to help us unload."

I know right away that Darla has put the wrong emphasis on the wrong words in that sentence on purpose. My next thought is, "Oh great, a Butcher and another Man Eater."