METH
I lived next door to some meth dealers (and manufacturers, and imbibers) for about a year. The condo was actually owned by the dealer's poor old mother, who apparently had no clue that "Ace" (his real nickname) was a methie, or just loved him too much to care. Ace got sent up the river and while he was in the hole his woman shacked up with the 'handyman'. They loved vacuuming and playing Whitesnake at 2am. They had a vicious dog that would bark all night, unless it got loose, and then it would attack somebody's innocent pet. One day Ace's lady had an OD, and because they didn't want the filth to see the meth lab, they dumped her on the sidewalk in front of my house before calling the ambulance! Class! True friends, y'all.

The saddest part of all this was that Ace's lady had a 5 year old daughter. Who lived in the meth lab. She came over to our house on her daughter's birthday to ask if she could use our phone to call the police because the handyman was getting 'out of control' at the party. How a meth addict defines 'out of control' is beyond me, but I sure won't stand in their way if they consider it a matter for the police.

It was a small town and by the end of the year I not only had the local police number programmed into my mobile, I was on a first name basis with the officers (all 6 of them) and knew who worked which shifts.
(Mabel DelTaco, Wed 31 Aug 2005, 8:45, Reply)