Nightmare Neighbors: 34 People Share Their Tragic Tales Of Living Next To Morons

24. He smelled like a pickled asshole and his basement was like a serial killer’s.

“I live in a neighborhood in Portland, which is a city that breeds a lot of interesting characters. My favorite crazy person I know one of my neighbors who lives a few houses down the street from me.

He’s someone who’d be very attractive, but the fact that he’s really grungy, has a tangled mess of dreadlocks, and constantly smells like a pickled asshole kills it for a lot of people. I’ve only ever seen him in really short running shorts and a tank top where the armholes are way too big, even when it’s cold like today. I see him almost every day because he’s always out jogging with his wiener dog when I’m headed to work, and he’s always in a great mood and really nice to me, so I’m almost certain he’s on drugs.

Back in September, he had a garage sale that my roommate and I went to, and in his garage he has a lot of cool stuff like some awesome vintage music posters and a weird amount of taxidermied animals. While I was chatting with him, he brought up that he kept some stuff in his basement that he didn’t want to put on the street, and asked if I wanted to see it.

I agreed and got my roommate to come with me just in case he tried to kidnap me, and he took us down stairs to reveal a bunch of really old medical supplies from what had to have been over a hundred years old, a really old ornate church podium, a bunch of straightjackets hanging on a rack, and a lot of mannequins. I felt like I walked into a prop room for American Horror Story. According to him, he just finds abandoned places and steals all the cool shit he can from them, buuut his basement was a little too serial killer to convince me.

I bought one of the straightjackets, though.”

25. He gave women herpes and smoked crack.

“Oh my god. Me and two friends moved into our first apartment together at 19. We moved into a cheap three-bedroom, all electric place in what, you could say is a not so nice part of town. That term is exaggerated though, we don’t have any like Detroit style, stay the fuck out neighborhoods, it’s just sketchy sometimes.

Anyways our apartment was one of four in a unit. Across a little porch/stairway lived ol’ Monty. This dude was a trip. We were the only white guys in the area, but we kept to ourselves and didn’t start any shit so Lamont and his friends (one I shit you not who wanted to be called don king) would come to our place and smoke weed and buy us booze at the store down the street.

Monty would take a twenty from us to buy alcohol and come back with one little bottle of Canadian whiskey. He would tear the label off bit by bit and say ‘aight dawg, you drink too here’ and then pass it and say ‘aight you drink to here!’ He had three kids (all of whom ended up in foster care…at my aunt’s house of all places and recognized my senior pic at her house. It was awkward as shit…like don’t tell them your dad would buy us booze). Their mother was a well off but trashy white woman who would scream from the courtyard of the apartments at him at all hours of the day and night. He had another woman up there one night, and she was screaming at him at the top of her lungs ‘HAVE FUN BITCH HE GAVE ME HERPES!’

What take the cake though, me and a buddy had gone to the burger king down the road for lunch. We were walking back home through the alley and we saw blue and red lights reflecting off the buildings. The short story is, our landlord (slumlord more like it) had come by to change air filters when Monty was having a huge BBQ. One in attendance (One of Monty’s cousins) was a former tenant of our landlord and owed him money. Ken, the landlord decided to bring it up and when the cousin hopped in his car to leave, Ken stood behind the car to stop him from leaving. I shit you not, the cousin just backed right over him lol. There is Monty on the sidewalk just laughing his ass off. Dude smoked crack, all his furniture was from a rent to own place, it was just a hilarious shit show.”

More From Thought Catalog