The move to my new neighborhood was, to say the least, toiling.
My routine for the first few days consisted of heavy lifting which would make Jason Mamoa heave and huff for breath. In other words I had to move my own furniture.
My house was nice enough. Two stories. A lot of room. Smelled slightly like a rat had died in there somewhere, but that is probably just me.
But look at this! America!
A new life, filled with opportunities. A new place, filled with great people and—
“Get out of my fuckin’ way, ya fuckin’ Arab!”
It was a large man. I was blocking his way on the street. Well, a normal man would have been able to walk past me, but he would have some difficulty due to his…. Girth?
“Sir” I responded in my most polite tone
“I am not Arabian, I am—”
“The next time I see you, I’ll call the police!”
This can’t be the typical American, right?
A brief walk around the neighborhood would lead one to the conclusion that the average American is fat, racist and smells quite strongly of cheap perfume.
But not my immediate neighbor, Balks. He was a tall, well built man, probably of a Northen decent. He spoke with the heavy and slurred accent of a drunkard or maybe he was Russian. I couldn’t tell. By profession he was a sculptor; his front yard was full of statues of well-endowed, muscular, naked men. I assumed he pandered to the female demographic.
I had been acquainted Balks before. It was… an interesting experience. I went like so:
It was the first day I had moved in. I had noticed the gaggle of naked statues in my neighbour’s front yard and I had immediately concluded that my neighbor was a either a sexual maniac or had a mentally degenerative disease.
While I was observing these statues (they have a strange magnetism) a large man came out of the house. For a moment I was blinded by the giant car reflector on his head, only to later realize that he was, in fact, bald. And magnificently so.
“Comrade!” his voice boomed, slathered in a heavy Russian accent
“You are new, yes?”
The question put to me was vague. I am certainly new this neighbourhood. But not newly born. Is everyone here so vague?
“Yes, yes I am new here” I responded
“Good, comrade, good”
Is he trying to be funny by saying comrade, or is this how he always speaks?
“Why don’t come over here and admire one my statues? I would love some criticism on them” he said
I glanced at the statues. Their magnificent aura had faded and now had been replaced with a malicious intimidation. Compared to them I felt very small. Or should I say one of my organs did.
I jumped the hedge separating our yards and I arrived in front of a statue.
Only to slip on the wet grass and fall face first on its crotch.
Balks basically stood there laughing. He later invited me in for vodka and the rest is history.
I have only been here for a week now, and I have been treated to racism, brass penises, fat people and Russian people. Each one much more exotic than the last.
I wonder what the next week will bring.
This is going to be a series of short stories featuring this character. It’s mostly going to be satire or humor. Maybe space travel.