The Ping Pong Pile of Shit

One day, while walking to the beach, my roommate and I saw a ping pong table on the side of the road with a sign with the word “FREE” written on it in large letters. Hell yeah, it’s our lucky fucking day. We folded that bitch up and brought it home. Then we unfolded it and put it outside and played for three days straight, constantly looking back on how lucky we were to stumble upon this treasure.

On the third night, it rained, so our ping pong adventure had to be placed on hiatus. Instead, we sat inside and got drunk, and forgot about the table outside in the rain. If you haven’t learned by now, alcohol has a strange and consistent way of contributing to irresponsibility.

We woke up around 2 PM the next day, and the sun was shining.

Me: Ping pong?
Roommate: Yes.

Paddles in hand, we stepped outside to a horrible sight: the cheap-ass particleboard we called a table had been completely fucking destroyed by the rain. The metal frame stood bare, but the rest of the table looked like my wrinkled unwashed sac—all floppy, with the wood swollen with water and about five times its normal weight.

One would probably think, “No big deal, it was free and we had a good run…but oh well, let’s throw this bitch away.” We, for the most part, accepted this and started silently throwing the wasted table into piles, dreaming about nailing a perfect serve while simultaneously orgasming. But there was one lingering problem: the wood was soaked with water and falling apart like a post-menopausal woman’s vagina. “Fuck that, we aren’t bringing that into our house.”

Luckily our landlords are lazy and irresponsible and have yet to put up a fence, thus giving us unlimited access to our neighbor’s yard.
Because my roommate and I are assholes and have no concern or regard for the feelings of others, we decided that our neighbor could use an extra hundred pounds of filth in his
yard. It took about an hour, but we finally got all of this shit into his yard. Problem solved.

A couple of days went by and my dreams were filled with kicking my roommate’s ass in ping pong. Each morning I awoke to find that the only balls in my hand were my own, I silently wept. Then one day, while consumed with the usual repertoire of abusing alcohol and watching TV, we heard a knock at our door. Since we have no “peep-hole” or whatever the fuck you call it on our door, we ran upstairs to look out the window to see who it was.

A black man??! This can’t be, I am not this cool. I was so excited I almost ran downstairs and opened the door, but my roommate talked some sense into me and we sat down, waiting for him to leave. For the rest of the day, I couldn’t help but wonder what this man wanted with us. Was he a rap artist or a basketball player? (Sorry, I am not really racist, that is just funny to me.) Eventually, I forgot about him.

Three days later, I was sleeping pleasantly in my room again on a sunny day, around 3 PM. Suddenly, I awoke to a woman screaming.

My roommate and I were irate, but still both stood in our doorways, not knowing what kind of shit this guy would pull. Then the thought crossed my mind: how did he get into the house in the first place? We do not live in the best neighborhood to begin with, so we always lock our doors. I looked at the lock on the door right past his head, and it was busted to shit. This guy had forced the locked door open and walked into our fucking house. As I write this, I still cannot believe it.

Through all of our yelling, I could hear the guy yelling back the same thing…

Guy: YOU DUMP YOU SHIT ON MA FUCKIN’ YARD, YOU WHITE BASTARDS!!!

He said that maybe five times before I realized who he was. He was the proud owner of a brand new ping pong table, compliments of us. The yelling went on for about 5 or 10 more minutes, until we finally ushered him into the backyard, threatening to call the police. He would not leave our backyard, and although there was no more yelling, a few words were still exchanged.

Me: Hey man, you’re gonna have to leave.
Guy: No man, fuck dat, you clean your fucking shit off my yard.
Me: Ughhh, we didn’t—
Guy: You lying piece of shit, I heard you boys playing dat damn ting right before I found it in ma fuckin' yard!
Me: Oh yeah, sorry. We didn’t mean to.
Guy: So are you gon’ pick it up or what?
Me: Considering you broke into our house, no. No I will not.

Up to this point, everything was pretty expected. Then he looked me right in the eyes and said, “You don’t know who you’re fucking wit.”

And then he walked off.

So to recap, a man broke into our house, screamed at us, and threatened us. We felt it was necessary to call the police. My roommate called, and left the information extra vague over the phone for a reason.

911: How can I help you?
Roommate: A man just broke into our house.
911: Okay, what does he look like.
Roommate: He’s black, about 5’ 10", and is wearing a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt.
911: Where do you live?

My hat’s off to the St. John's Sheriff’s Department. Within about three minutes we heard a knock at the door and opened it. Three officers came rushing in and asked us where the man had broken in. We pointed to the sliding glass door in the back. The first officer had a bulletproof vest on and told us to sit down and not touch anything. The second officer ran in with a German shepherd that had pubic hair stuck in his teeth from whoever’s nuts he had just bitten off. This dog was practically foaming at the mouth for his daily fix of blood.

The officer took the dog over to the area where the man had been standing and as soon as Sid Vicious picked up the scent, he darted into the backyard. Then the third officer came barreling into the house with a shotgun, just as bloodthirsty as the dog. It was pretty intense, and I assumed that the dog had been trained in Germany because the officer kept yelling what sounded like German at it. I had flashbacks to my days as a Nazi.

I started getting kind of worried, because I knew the cops would be pissed when they found out that they brought a whole fucking squadron out for a ping pong table. Then they brought in two more cops—one looked like a detective, and the other looked like the kind of cop that got harassed as a kid because he was breast fed until he was 12, and hated everyone for it. The detective started asking us questions.

Detective: What happened?
Me: I woke up to find a strange man standing in my house and yelling about something.
Detective: What was he yelling about?
Me: Um, I dunno, I didn’t really understand him.
Detective: Have you seen him before?
Me: Yeah maybe, he might live around here.
Detective: So you have no idea why he would break into your house?Me: No sir.

I hate lying, but I really didn’t want to look like a douchebag. Plus, it was pretty funny to watch the dog and the two officers trample the shit out of all our neighbors plants and yards because they are all assholes. We are pretty sure one guy is a drug dealer and the dog kept going back over to his yard, so we were hoping for the best.

The German shepherd finally made his way up to the right house and starting barking wildly at the man’s door. We didn’t see this, but we heard the dog and knew we were in for a treat. In a flurry of action, we heard doors being slammed, and our neighbor was thrown into the yard and detained. He was now the one in his boxers and I saw his balls from behind as the officers detained him. As expected, they were microscopic in size and as bald as a baby’s asshole.

I kept thinking back to when this guy said, “You don’t know who you’re fucking with.” After seeing his wife and kid run out behind him, apparently I was fucking with a married man who drives a Geo Metro, with a tiny sac.

I was trying to hold back my stifled fits of laughter. He had it coming. My roommate and I were initially in the wrong, but breaking into our house was not justified. There were now a total of six officers in our house, and they slowly pieced together what had happened after listening to the man’s story.

Detective: So….we hear that you dumped some garbage on this man’s yard.
Me: That’s not the point, he broke into our house.
Dickhead Cop: Well actually it is the point, because that’s why he repeatedly tried to get a hold of you two.
Me: Does that justify breaking and entering?
Dickhead Cop: I’ll ask the fucking questions here smart guy.

Needless to say, the police officers were pretty pissed at us. The dickhead cop was bitching because he had to explain to his captain why the whole goddamn SWAT team was needed for a domestic disturbance. The two police officers with the dog and the shotgun were very disappointed, and sulked off through the house and out the front door with their heads hanging. No death today.

The officers issued a trespass warning to our neighbor. He is no longer allowed to step foot near our house. I agreed to him that I would pick up the remnants of the table, and dispose of it properly. Well, to tell you the truth, I have not touched that fucking wood and it is still sitting in his yard. The garbage men refuse to pick it up because by now it is not even really in solid form and stretches out over a good portion of his yard.

You, my friend, do not know who you fucked with.

*Just to let you know how much my neighbors suck, not even one hour passed since I finished writing this story, and some random ass dude wandered into our backyard and chopped down part of our banana tree and took about 200 bananas. I probably had it coming though.