My neighbors on the left are a pretty normal Portuguese family with well-behaved kids. To the right of me is a 40 year old Sicilian piece of shit who still lives at home with his mother. He has never worked and cannot get on welfare for the simple fact that he lives with his mom, whose pension checks he steals and cashes every chance he gets.

He's a curious little fellow with a cross addiction to Tylenol 3, crack and heroin, though he hides his needle tracks by shooting in his bicep. I can't even walk barefoot or in sandals on my front lawn for fear of 'finding' a discarded needle. The police drop by his house a couple of times a week to keep tabs on him, but this small-timer is always one step ahead of them.

A couple of years ago twenty police cruisers swarmed my block because this fuckhead had taped a sawed off shotgun to his chest and called in a suicide threat. Everyone on the street was gathered around egging him on to pull the trigger, but to no avail. After two days of psychiatric evaluation he was back with even more meds.

Despite the little cockroach on the other side of the fence its a pretty quitet street. And when he does die/move/do hard time we're all throwing the mother of all block parties.