Saturday, August 16, 2008

This NEVER Happened in Vegas!

So. Last night I was sitting out on our little front porch that Sean-Martin built all by himself. It's a serene place to be in the evenings with a nice glass of pino grigio and a cheese platter. Two wicker chairs, huddled up to a round glass table, stand on a sandstone patio behind a Japanese maple that can’t decide whether or not life is worth living. The sun sets behind our house around 9:15 at night, so the front porch is shaded and cool, and the temperature is perfect. It’s lovely. Or, rather, it WAS lovely.
I was on the phone catching up on the latest goings-on with Devin when I glanced over across the street and down the way a bit. There, standing just inside his garage watching me, was our neighbor BUCK-ASS NAKED with his dick in hand, GOING TO TOWN WITH IT! We’re talking full-frontal, broad daylight, standing just twelve inches inside his garage with the door wide open, and not even TRYING to hide behind a car.
Now, you know when your eyes are in a knock-down-drag-out with your brain? Yes, I know that I am seeing this! No, you’re NOT seeing this! Yes I am! No you’re not! Yes I am! No you’re not!
“Oh my God!” I shrieked.
“What’s wrong?” Devin knew from my tone that something was happening, and that protective bone kicked in from 2000 miles away. My silence certainly did nothing to reassure my brother. “Daisy! What’s going on?”
Not answering, I ran inside the house and called upstairs to my husband who was watching Michael Phelps blow away the competition in China’s Water Cube. “Sean-Martin, can you please come down here for a second?” I knew he was up there rolling his eyes and thinking how that one sentence was never, ever good.
“Daisy!” Devin continued his rant in my ear. “What the hell is going on?”
Poor guy. I just let him hang. He heard me tell Sean-Martin, “Look out this window.” I pointed to the open garage across the way.
“What is it?” they both asked.
Finally, Devin was going to get his answers: “Is that our neighbor standing in his garage, totally naked, tugging on his dick?”
“WHAT?!” both men exclaimed in simultaneous stereo.
“You’ve got to be shittin’ me.” Sean-Martin pulled the horizontal blinds apart and peered through. Sure enough, there was our neighbor yanking away in front of anybody who cared to look.
Now, for the record, none of the three of us are morally opposed to people showing themselves a little affection. In fact, I have what they call a “Silver Bullet”, except mine is purple. And let me tell you, that thing’ll gitterdun! “Mommy’s Little Helper” is what Daddy calls it. But we CERTAINLY don’t use it in the FRONT YARD! It’s hiding in my underwear drawer, and we only break it out behind a CLOSED AND LOCKED DOOR!
I saw the conflict ensue between my husband’s brain and his eyes as he jerked his hand back from the blinds and let them snap shut, not believing what he had just seen. He leaned his head to one side as the confusion took over his face. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Sean-Martin was internally arguing with himself: You didn’t just see that. Yes I did. No you didn’t. Yes I did. No you didn’t.
He looked again. Yep! The neighbor was still plucking away! Devin wasn’t getting any answers out of me so he told me to give the phone to Sean-Martin.
“Yeah,” he reported. “He’s jacking off right here in front of my wife. Standing right there, watching her.”
Devin must have offered some creative suggestion because Sean-Martin replied, “Should I take my shotgun?”
Dear God.
“Well, I’m going over there. Here’s Daisy. She’ll give you the play by play.”
Out the front door he went. Of course, I wanted to hear every word so I followed him out and took my usual place on the veranda. With any luck there would be yelling and Devin could enjoy the exchange as well. When the neighbor saw my husband coming, he ran into the house. Sean-Martin was not dissuaded in the least. He walked right into the garage and called him outside.
Can you believe the guy came back out?
“What the fuck?” Sean-Martin began.
Now, I never heard one word from the neighbor. Devin and I only heard one side:
“What were you doing?”
“I saw you! My wife saw you!”
“BULLSHIT! We saw you!”
“Who else is here then? What other guy is here?”
“Then it was YOU! What the fuck?”
“That’s my WIFE! That is my WIFE!”
“It wasn’t you? Then who was it?”
“You don’t speak English now? How about I call the police? Will you speak English then?”
“Oh, so it WAS you?”
“Bullshit! Too many beers, my ass!”
“No excuse! No excuse!”
“You and me? No mas! No mas! We’re done! We are NOT friends! No amigos!”
Finally I heard very faintly, “Don’t tell my wife. No police! No police!”
“You stay away from my wife! You stay away from my house!”
With that, my hero came walking back, red in the face and shaking his head.
“Well done,” Devin offered before we hung up.
Fifteen minutes later, this guy’s wife pulled up to their house with their grandson and went inside. We hadn’t moved from the front porch and kept our eyes sharp.
“He’s pooping a twinkie right now,” I speculated.
Not two minutes later, both came back outside upset as we continued to stare them down. The guy, fully dressed now, started walking up to our house.
“No!” Sean-Martin lifted a finger to point him back in the direction he’d come. “No, no, no! Get away from this house!” He kept coming up the sidewalk, and I retreated into the house. I’ve had my fill of perverts for this lifetime.
He stopped finally and asked Sean-Martin, “You have my pants?”
He’d apparently misplaced his pants and thought Sean-Martin might have taken them.
“I don’t have your pants. Get away from this house.”
He turned around and started back to his own house. His wife had gotten back in the car and pulled up to our house as her husband walked away.
“Sean,” she called. “What is the problem?”
“Talk to your husband.”
She motioned for him to come up to the truck and talk to her. Sean-Martin didn’t budge from the chair.
“Talk to your husband. Your husband can tell you what he did.”
Finally, without her answers, she pulled away. She turned around and stopped in front of her own house. He got into the passenger’s seat, and they drove off. That’s the last we’ve seen of them.
I can't imagine that he will tell his wife what happened. After all, how does a guy form the words, "Well, honey. I got caught waxing my carrot in front of the neighbors." If his wife, whom I love, really wants to know what happened then she will probably come and ask me. And don’t think for a minute that I won’t tell her every last detail. I will. I’m not sure I should break my neck to run right over and let her know either, even though it’s kind of ironic that I have no problem putting it out on the Internet. I might also mention here that calling the police is still not totally out of the question either.
So, what are your opinions? Should we spill the beans to the wife or not? And what’s your opinions about involving the police?
A post-script here: We really do live in a very nice neighborhood.

11 comments:

Anonymous said...

Daisy your prose is fabulous even when you are writing about a freak! Hubby is a hero. No easy answers for neighbors wife-she has some decisions to make. Yes-You should tell her. You said she was with a grandchild which means there are children around this man. He is out of control and dangerous. Something worse might happen later. 1st comes peeping tom then comes sex crime...call the cops. Go Montana on him... Keep the shotgun handy for protection.

Felicia said...

I'm with anonymous. Tell the wife.

OMG!!!! I was laughing sooooo hard on that one! I think I just peed my pants! :D :D :D I could just imagine Sean-Martin confronting the perv. Oh! I love that guy! He's a keeper my dear. I can also imagine Devin trying to figure out the quickest route to Idaho in order to pull out a can of whoop-ass on the nasty neighbor. :D :D :D

Anonymous said...

Wow! I probably would have called the police immediately. "Sean Martin" is Awesome! I would run to tell the wife and anyone else that would listen. That guy is dangerous.(with a capital D) I hope they move soon so that your safe place is not infested with his funk.Be safe.

Daisy Martin said...

I had to post this from my e-mail because it was just too funny!


Daisy-Mae-Castlebury,

I cannot believe this shit! First of all, I'm so sorry that happened to you. But secondly, the way you write girl, it was all I could do not to flat pee my pants. Keep it up girl! As far as what you should do, if his wife does not get the "real story" from her husband, by all means if she comes across the street to get it, YOU GIVE IT TO HER! Wouldn't you want to know if Sean Martin did something so vile and retarded? Ahhhhh, YEAH! That man needs HELP! Secondly, a fair warning has been given. If it does in fact happen again, call the FUZZ! If you can't keep it in yer pants in yer own confines of yer home, you need to be stuffed and flufffed downtown by the local POLICE! Get er done!

Much love,
T

Barry said...

What a story! Tell the wife and call the police...that's my opinion. The guy is a lunatic and needs some serious therapy.

Not to trump your great story, but I've got one for you. When I was still single and before I met Terri, a buddy of mine and I use to hang out at the mall of America up by the bars and clubs, neither of us were drinkers, we just enjoyed the people watching (girl watching). One evening, I was bored and went to the MOA alone, and wandered into one of the dance clubs. I just sat down and had a coke. I saw this beautiful young lady dancing on the dance floor and some shmuck dirt-bag trying to hit on her. I thought I'd step in and try to help her out so that dirt bag would leave her alone, so I asked her to dance...she agreed, so we started to dance...and the dirt-bag eventually came out on the dance floor to try and interupt us....I told the guy to take a flying leap and get lost. To make a long story short, this gal was very pretty, but a little dizzy in the head. I was walking her to her car, when she strangely just bolted down the hall inside the MOA towards the parking ramp. I was a bit confused, she seemed a bit confused...I thought something was really bothering her. I shrugged it off and headed to my car, because it didn't seem she was interested in hanging out anymore. I got to my car and thought that was a bit odd and I began to worry about this young lady, so I drove to where her car was and she was still sitting in her car. I parked my car and walked over to her driver's side window and knocked on the window....but immediately after (while) I was gently knocking on her window I saw something that took me back a bit....this young lady had her hand up her dress and was having a good time...if you know what I mean. The moment she noticed me knocking on her window, she covered herself with a newspaper and rolled her window down. I was a little embarassed, but I asked her if everything was ok....I said she looked a little shook up (when she ran to her car) and that it looked like something was bothering her. I'll cut to the chase.....we started to talk and eventually she invited me to sit in her car to talk a bit. We talked (that's all we did really) She was in-to Karaoke, and so was I, she was actually very nice, but a bit immature and, I saw her a couple of times after that night, but she was so odd, I didn't continue to pursue any futher get togethers. Daisy your story kind of reminded me of that odd incident.

Brian said...

Wow, I thought we had problems in Iraq! Thanks for an entertaining and seriously funny diversion today. I've been laughing so hard that people around me are wondering what the heck is going on. Geeesh! I'm a little worried I'll ever make it back in "normal" society after I leave here.

Sean is to be commended - He had the tact and gusto to walk over and confront this guy. That's pretty awesome.

I don't think I'd have worried about his wife, but I would have called the cops in a heartbeat - heck, I'd have tried to capture it on video just get the guy locked away for some serious counseling session. I'm as open-minded as the next person, but this is out of bounds and I'm worried the guy needs some help.

Anonymous said...

The story is hilarous as adults but I'm a mom of three two being girls and that don't fly here. Way to go Sean confronting him but I think the wife should know for sure and warned herself that if it happens again you will call the cops. Safety first...

Mike said...

Oh Daisy! This story made my sunday night! If I were Sean Martin I would have shot him haha. Seriously that is not right for anyone to go out on the street nude. I would deffinetly tell the wife. He is a perve and he should be reported to the police or some institution. I was just imagining what was going on with Sean-Martin and Mr. Nude. I remember us Mormon boys in the neighborhood coming to see you and it being a fairly nice neighborhood. This man shouldn't be in the neighborhood especially not where there are kids around.

Anonymous said...

Lil Sis,
I have to admit that I have shared this blog with several of my close friends. They were highly entertained by you description of the situation "at hand", however, knowing you as I do, I can't believe and am somewhat disappointed in you that you did not fight back by showing your breasts to him. Somewhat gunning him down with your "pieces". Furthermore, I can't believe that I had to read this, not being informed by you or our brother. I do hope that Dad does not read this one. Yes, you should call the police. He is calling out for help. Love you more than a good blog. Big Sis

Anonymous said...

Hey friend. I got to hear the story first from Devin but WOW your version made me laugh, wence and shake my head in dis-belief. Again - who should be writing for a living - oh that's right - my girl, Daisy Rain Martin.

So please forgive me - my creep-o-meter must need adjusting. I have been blessed beyond belief to have very limited "exposure" to certifiable sexual perverts. I cannot wrap my head around standing outside completely naked. I know what I look like naked - it's not pretty. I certainly WOULD NEVER visit that sight on anyone - friend or foe.

I think you handled the situation perfectly. Again - Sean Martin is the hero you always knew he was. Thank you Jesus for bringing Sean Martin into Daisy's life - amen.

Now - you and I both know - "no one goes to jail on my watch". I have an aversion to jails, prisons, drug rehabs, half-way-houses and any other institution of "rehabilitation". So I am down with the decision NOT to call the Po Po.

Next time tell Sean Martin to take the shot gun. And call the police immediately after Sean Martin casterates this perv with the .22Tell the wife - but be prepared to lose a friend.

But most of all - stay on the porch. Don't let some "jackoff" change your behavior. Enjoy what Sean Martin made for you to enjoy. Remember - the beautiful evening weather is one of the reasons you moved to Idaho.

I love you more than watching Michael Phelps win the 8th gold metal. OK not really that completely gave me an orgasim. But I do love you BIG! Deidre

Anonymous said...

Sean Martin is a HERO and you are blessed to have him. I am not sure but did the wine have anything to do with what you saw? I guess not cause Sean saw it too. This guy needs to be run out of your neighborhood. You will loose a friend in his wife because she will probably uphold him and his actions. Maybe if you tell her he won't do it again but you will never know unless you do. You are a talented story teller and should think about a career change.