|Mine was that red and white one on the left|
pretty close to describing the stories I could tell about living there.
The road going into Shangri-La was tricky especially at night, unless you knew exactly where the sink holes were in the middle of the road. Ambulances didn't so they often went airborne over one or two of the holes. The owner was too busy living in some fantasy world of "Bruce Lee taught him karate" to care or worry about the atmosphere, or to take care of the place much less care about those sink holes in the road. At first there was a neighborhood watchman. His name was Peeping Tom. Not really, but that is what he did at night and all dressed up in Ninja type clothing. Another neighbor turned out to have a very green thumb (look out Martha Stewart), growing a garden of "funny smokes." It was nice of the cops to come and harvest his crop for him once a year, don't you think? Car stereo speakers often booming not with rap music but bluegrass music boomed a squealed from them. (Oh yay) And oh the neighbors there... Billy Ray who held a daily yard sale and one day hung a sign that read: "Layaway Now Available"; Buck and Mary Sue who had that valuable beer bottle collection of all the Dale Earnhardt Pabst Blue Ribbon bottles. Oh Shangri-La, where just setting on the porch sipping on the fine wine of Traileur Trashe' Sauvignon, which was a local backyard wine made by neighbor Jimmy Joe in a wringer washer on his front porch; I realized that the real life cops are better than anything on TV especially after two neighbors Junior and Ricky Ray got into a fight over a fishing bait. One was tasered, the other shot with rubber pellets. At least once a week, you came home from work to a business door hanger, not from the local Domino's Pizza offering coupons and specials, but the bail bondsman weekly special. Peachy who took seriously "it takes a village to raise an idiot" opened the neighborhood daycare at the laundrymat. Luckily our trailer set on top of Shangri-La Swamp, which also doubled as the neighborhood swimming sink hole. When the neighbors washed clothes or we had a hard rain, the swamp would fill up with water and mosquitoes and would get a stagnant odor. Of course the fun only lasted until the sun came out and dried it all up. For thirteen miserable years we lived in
You may be wondering why I am reposting this today. Well it is because a friend recently moved there into Shangri-La and I had already written the story. Nothings changed about the place. Laureen now lives in that yeller and white one on the right. I recently visited her for a yard feast and gave her a house warming gift of a pack of six Roach Motels. She's gonna need'em. She lives right up the hill from the cesspool. Sure wished I had worn those skeeter bracelets when I did or at least had carried a can of skeeter beater spray. Thought I was gonna leave there with West Nile Virus. Amazingly, many of the same folks from years past still live there. I about gagged on the home made wine made in the wringer washer. Still tasted like old sneakers or somethin'. After all of these years I still don't miss living there.
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