When I was about 12
our nextdoor neighbour, Jean, was an extremely big lady, with long greasy hair and a mole the size of an eyeball on her forehead.
Now, one day my mum goes over to hers for a cup of coffee, to find her opening the door in a flimsy green evening dress and a plastic tiara on her haid, claiming she's a princess. When they go in, mum sees that the floor is covered with broken glasses and beerbottles, the neighbours one year old doughter crawling about naked.

So, what to do?
Mum tries to make up an excuse to take the toddler with her, but Jean won't have any of that. She then decides to call an ambulance to get her psychiatric help. So she comes over to me, and tells me to stay home and not to open the door. When she goes out the door and gets on her bike (to ride to a phonebooth), Jean is already waiting for her. She figured out what my mum was up to and was not happy. As I looked out of the window, I could see my mum speeding away on her crappy bike, being chased by this big ugly lady in evening dress, with a plastic tiara on her head, hitting my mother with a broomstick. By the time my mum came back, Jean had barricaded her front door and had thrown all of her bedroom furniture through the upstairs window. She was holding her toddler out of the window -Michael Jackson stylee- threatening to let her fall down if anyone tried to enter her house. Oh how we laughed.
(miet, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 22:19, Reply)