Ball kickin' brats

Once upon a time in a quiet neighborhood there lived a loud family. The mom could only speak in loud screeching voices. The two boys screamed nonstop.  Their dogs barked uncontrollably. They were loud.  Nearly every single morning the garage door would rumble up and then a loud crash and glass breaking followed when the mother would throw out all of the wine bottles she had emptied the night before. Shortly after that the boys would emerge and begin to play their version of soccer. This entailed lots of screamed instructions - pointers if you will, as to how best score a goal. As the screamed instructions got louder the frequency of dog barking increased. It was a virtual symphony of breaking wine bottles, screaming little boys and barking dogs.

Oftentimes the soccer "goal" just so happened to be my fence. Bam, BAM, BAM went the ball against my fence. Scream, SCREAM, SCREAM went the boys kicking the ball. Arf, ARF, ARF barked their yippy little dogs. It was enough to drive this crazy woman insane. The only redeeming thing that happens when all of this is going on is when the screaming boys' ball flies over the fence into my back yard. Because when the ball is in my yard, it becomes property of the dog (heh heh heh). And little poochie loves her some soccer balls.

She can take a brand spankin' new ball and shred it in no time at all. Now, I'm not a total Hitler - the first time the ball came into my yard I promptly returned it. And I promptly returned it the next 30 times it happened but it's happened so many times now, I get secret pleasure in allowing Lucille to tear the hell out of them. I might let her chew on it for a good 1/2 hour (and longer as each day passes) before I return it.

I also let her tear the balls up because I don't like those brats kicking the ball against my fence. They're going to rattle the screws right out of the boards if they keep it up. I heard their screaming mother yell at them to stop kicking balls against my fence once but the little monsters ignored her. I've yelled at them to stop it but they don't listen. They're probably deaf from their mother yelling all of the time. So every day I get to listen to multiple wine bottles crash and break, I get to listen to 2 (or more) bratty little boys scream soccer tips at the top of their lungs, I get to listen to the ball bang against my fence repeatedly and when it gets quiet I get to listen to Lucille systematically rip the hide off of the ball and destroy it. That last sound is music to my ears by the way. And when the ripping and shredding noises stop, I casually toss the boys' soccer ball back over the fence to them. Have fun you noisy brats - have fun.