Tag: Neighbors

  • Open Letter to the Asshole Who Stole My Umbrella

    Dear Dingleberry,

    You already know that I consider you to be an asshole from the title of this piece, so I thought it best, in the hopes of keeping this letter active and engaging, that I come up with some other descriptive names for you; such as rat faced monkey butt.

    Yet, I feel I should get to the point. For you, you near sighted stinky weasel, stole my umbrella that was wet, and drying outside of my apartment’s front door. You might not be aware of this, you waste of carbon, but theft is frowned upon. In fact, as this is a small building with a limited number of people living here, we all know each other rather well, and stealing from the front door of your neighbor, is a cardinal sin around these parts.

    I understand why you did it, you simple minded amoeba, it was raining outside, but that doesn’t justify your actions. If you wanted to borrow and return the umbrella, I would have agreed to that, for I am a neighborly neighbor, unlike you, a stain left on the floor.

    But, you did not do that.

    You saw an opportunity, and took it believing that there would be no repercussions to this action. The actions of a poop smelling little person.

    I know that there is a good chance that one of my neighbors did not do this, because as I had mentioned before, we do look out for each other in this building. We help each other move heavy things up and down the stairs, water each other’s plant, feed each other’s animals, delivery packages and mail, and most importantly, hold doors open and say hello. NO, my neighbors are good people.

    You, assclown, most likely don’t live here, and maybe thought you would never come back here, or if you do come back, so much time will have past that no one will care that you swiped an umbrella from someone’s door step.

    Ah! You figured wrong; you chunk of ear wax! You couldn’t have imagined that “the power of words” would come after you in this wildly passive-aggressive letter! Yes, the pen is mightier than the sword, but a baseball bat to the shins is even better!

    And with no due respect; please burn in hell. Forever, if you wouldn’t mind,

    Matt Groff

    P.S. – Bruce knows what I’m going through…

  • Short Story Review: “Neighbors” by Zach Williams

    (The short story “Neighbors” by Zach Williams appeared in the March 25th, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Devin Oktar Yalkin

    A movie I love, just deeply admire, is Picnic on Hanging Rock by Peter Weir. For a movie that was a hit, and enormously influential, I have met very few people who have seen it. I won’t go into too much detail on it, but it’s a movie about the experience of being involved with a mystery. The characters in the film evolve and grow because of the mystery, and in a sense, the resolution of the mystery is not needed for the story. I can’t prove it, but Zach Williams might have seen this movie, and if he hasn’t, he should watch it, as I think he’d like it.

    “Neighbors” is the second story I have read by Williams, and it is 100% the opposite of “Wood Sorrel House,” yet both stories, just like Hanging Rock, revolve around mysteries that never get solved,  but aren’t really about the mysteries. “Neighbors” is about a man doing a favor and checks in on his elderly neighbor. And I am leaving it at that because I don’t want to ruin the fun of this story.

    Just like in “Wood Sorrel House,” “Neighbors” just got stuck in my head, and wouldn’t go away. The story kept poking at me, asking me to reflect on some of the experiences that I have had, how I reacted in the moment, and how I processed them after. I wish I could point to the one thing, phrase or moment in the story where I got captured by it, but that “thing” remains elusive, unable to be grasped. The closest I can come to is the narrator talking to his wife on the beach about his experience, as that moment felt very honest and true, but I also feel like I was swept up in this story at that point.

    If I had Zach Williams in front of me, and besides asking him if he’s seen Hanging Rock, I might ask him what this story was about, and I’m pretty sure he’d answer with asking me, what did I think the story was about? Except, I don’t think he’s being a smart aleck if he did that. Williams is a very capable writer, who is in control of his craft and is purposefully creating a story that lives in the gray arears that populate most people’s lives. So, if you’re asking what the story was about, then you’re focusing on the mystery, and not what the experience was.