Monday, June 25, 2007

The Drug House

So if I look straight out my front door, I see what the neighbors used to call "the drug house." I guess it was really bad in the 90s; the boys of that house ruled our little neighborhood, and the neighborhood was the most dangerous in the city.

The drug family has since moved away, and they're building skinny townhouses on my street, filled with white people who drive up my property value.

So when the ice cream truck comes to the neighborhood, I only hear it for a minute, anymore.

Not like when the drug family was there. When the drug family was there, the ice cream truck would show up and PARK in front of the drug house, for hours at a time, with the damn Turkey In The Straw song playing CONTINUOUSLY.

Selling *ice cream?* No.

And to boot, it's that stupid version with the hand claps.

(one) TWO! THREE! (four, one) TWO! THREE! (four, one) TWO! (three) FOUR! (one) TWO! THREE!....

Does the hand clapping make us enjoy that damn song more?

Anyway, the drug family is gone, so the ice cream truck doesn't park in front of the drug house anymore.

I'm so glad they're gone.

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