From the blog of Flex Malarky, 43, of West Chester, PA on 12/6/11:

Sad, sad day in the neighborhood yesterday.  The morning began with hugs and tears as the McCloskeys waved goodbye, slammed the doors on their moving vans and drove off to their new home across state.  They’re good friends and have been great neighbors across the street for the past 10 years…we’re really going to miss them.

I told McCloskey as I shook his hand, “Boy, I hope the new neighbors are as friendly as you guys.”

“With neighbors like you,” said McCloskey, “they’ll know immediately how blessed they are.”  He then seemed to run into his car and burned rubber as he sped up the street.

I told Fran that I really wanted to welcome the new neighbors with open arms.  Fran said, “That’s nice, Flex.  But Debbie told me they’re not moving in for a week or so.  They’re getting the place painted first.”  Fran said they were a young couple, early 30s, with a baby girl.  They were stopping by today to make sure the place had been properly cleaned and to drop off a few things.

I decided to nominate myself, right then and there, as the head of the Neighborhood Welcoming Committee.

I knew McCloskey hadn’t changed his garage door code, so an hour later I picked up a case of Moosehead and made my way over.  I punched in the four digit code, the door went up, and I entered.  I walked into the family room and then the kitchen and placed the case of beer on the countertop next to where the McCloskey’s refrigerator had been.

I had brought a pen and piece of paper so I wrote, “Welcome, Neighbors!” and placed it on top of the case.  I turned to leave then thought, Hmmm…they won’t know who dropped this off.  So I added, “Your New Neighbors on Briar Road!”  Then I thought, Hmmm…let everyone else take credit for my good deed?  Barloni hasn’t lifted a finger in the neighborhood in 10 years!  Why should I include him on this?  And what about Higgins?  Cheap bastard always grimaces whenever he buys the one solo box of Girl Scout Cookies from my daughter.  Screw him!  And Gorman!  Stan Gorman!  Stupid jerk next door just always seems to be mowing whenever we have an outdoor party.  Antisocial psychopath!  The hell with all of them!

I got so mad I cracked open a beer as I added, “Specifically, Your New Neighbors Across the Street…the Malarkys!”  There.  I toasted myself and drank heartily as I read my note.  “Ha!” I yelled.  “These new neighbors are gonna friggin’ love us!”

Next thing I knew, I heard a scream.  My eyes fluttered open and I saw two people staring down at me.  It was a young man and woman, both maybe in their early 30s.  She was holding a baby girl.  They were all huge!  “Who the hell are you and what in God’s name are you doing in our house!” the man cried.

I looked around and took the picture in.  17, maybe 18, empty Moosehead bottles all over the countertop and kitchen floor.  I also happened to be on the kitchen floor…in horizontal fashion…which explained a lot.  My new neighbors were not giants.

She screamed again, he freaked and proceeded to toss me out of the house.  I then noticed that I had beer stains (God, I hope they were beer stains) all over my Aquaman Underoos and I nearly tripped on my Captain Picard slippers and Spider-Man cape as he threw me out into the garage.  “Whoa!” I slurred.  “You’re getting my Spider-Man cape dirty.”

“Spider-Man doesn’t wear a cape,” grunted my new neighbor.

So now I’m bummed cause I forgot that Spider-Man doesn’t wear a cape, that this guy doesn’t appreciate Aquaman and that I still had 6 or 7 beers left in that case.  “Who are you?” the man cried. 

“Gorman,” I said.  “Stan Gorman from across the street.”  My new neighbor then shoved me out of his garage.  As his door went down, I proceeded to vomit all over his driveway.

My first impression?  I’m not crazy about our new neighbors.  They seem very uptight.