Neighbors From Hell - It's time to move

The day our next door neighbor moved in, a lovely woman we'll call Psycho for reasons that will become evident, her kids threw garbage over the fence into our back yard. This was an ill omen, a sign of things to come.

The family consists of Psycho, an early 40's MILF wannabe, who runs around in low-cut tops, tight jeans, or short shorts. Her eldest daughter, Slut Face, was in her late teens when they first moved in. The next girl, Brat Face, was in her early teens. The two twin boys, the Holy Terrors, were about 11 or 12.

While Psycho would be out working, Slut Face and Brat Face would have their boyfriends over and they'd hang around in the back yard drinking beer and smoking weed. Sometimes the girls would go out too and leave their little brothers home alone to wreak havoc on the neighborhood, like a double dose of Macaulay Culkin.

Eventually one of our neighbors across the street got fed up with the Holy Terrors trashing the neighborhood and called the Children's Aid Society. Good move, except Psycho thought we had done it and in a drunken tirade left a note in our mailbox telling us to mind our own business or eat poo and die. Yes, poo.

Thank you for leaving the physical evidence. We showed it to the police and they informed her that that sort of behavior wouldn't be tolerated.

Their next feat of brilliance occurred when Slut Face's boyfriend, Doofus, would come and spend the night and park his car on our lawn. We asked him not to, politely, explaining that it wasn't good for the grass. That was like reasoning with a Chihuahua, except a Chihuahua can be trained.

Eventually Slut Face got pregnant and moved out with Doofus. That meant Brat Face was now ready to graduate to Slut Face Junior, and graduate she did. We found out later, from a neighbor who's daughter went to school with Slut Face Junior, that she got pregnant in her mother's bed, had an abortion, and then got pregnant again.

Meanwhile the Holy Terrors continue their acts of senseless mayhem, with acts of genius like trampling our flower garden and ripping up the front lawn with their twin pocket bikes. A couple of times they've egged our house. Well, to be precise, we thought they had egged our house. It turned out they were only helping their mother; it was her idea. That was about as nice as draining her pool into our backyard.

We're thinking of moving, since it seems they won't.