Alright, now I think it's safe to say,
that when you're a kid, there were certain houses in your neighborhood,
that you would tend to stay away from.
I mean, everybody knew
where the neighborhood pervert was on the block, after all.
Hey you guys wanna come inside my house so I can take pictures of your feet?
But for me personally, I was always more worried
about the old lady that lived across the street from me.
Because this old lady was mean as hell.
And she was notorious for yelling at anybody that walked past her house.
"Get off my property, you little piss bag!"
"Uhm, I'm on the sidewalk, what the hell do you want me to do?
Walk in the middle of the street?"
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(Tires squeal, thud)
Hell, even if you're in your own front yard,
minding your own business, doing kid shit,
she would sit on her front porch and stare at you,
and make you uncomfortable as hell.
"Ladi-da-da, I'm doing kid shit... Well, what the?!"
♪ Harsh note ♪
"Uh, ma'am, can I help you?"
♪ Harsh note ♪
"Uh... hellooo?"
♪ Harsh note ♪
"This is really uncomfortable, good bye!"
(Thud!)
"There's some old lady staring at me, like she's the fucking Blair Witch,
can I just play inside?"
"Listen, I don't care if it's John Wayne Gacy out there staring at ya,
you get your ass out there and you play outside!"
And if that wasn't bad enough,
she had this big-ass cat that would stare at us as well!
And when I say this cat was big,
I mean this thing was like the size of a goddamn third-grader.
"I can eat a baby if I want, I don't give a damn!"
He was an outdoors cat,
he would just roam around the neighborhood,
catch people off-guard when they're walking down the street.
"Oh, what the hell is that? A Kodiak brown bear?!"
"Kids, run for your lives, there's a fucking Kodiak brown bear roaming the streets!"
So naturally, this mean old lady and her fat-ass cat
gained quite the reputation amongst us kids.
We'd be making up urban legends and shit,
"I heard she chops up kids with a chainsaw,
and feeds them to that fat-ass cat of hers!"
"Oh my God, she's making kids into cat food!"
"What the fuck are we gonna do about this?!"
Now, the worst part about this old lady
was that every time we played wiffle ball out in the street,
it always seemed like the goddamn ball would always end up over the fence
and into her backyard.
I don't know what it was, but it happened all the time!
Like there was a fucking gravitational pull in her backyard,
that would suck up wiffle balls left and right.
One time my friend Michael tried to climb her fence to get a ball back,
and that damn old lady tore him a new asshole.
"Get off my fence, you piss stain!"
"Don't make me set my fat-ass cat on ya!"
Michael comes walking back, trying to play it off,
like he wasn't terrified the whole time.
"Man, that old lady is lucky I didn't walk up there and push her old ass over!"
"Uh, yeah Michael, you know there's piss all over the front of your pants, right?"
"There's what?.. Oh, god damn it!"
So needless to say, the unspoken rule was,
any wiffle ball that went in her backyard stayed in her backyard.
And the only time we didn't follow that rule
was when I lost my sweet, sweet Vortex football over there.
You see, if you're not aware, Vortex footballs were a big deal in the '90s.
I mean, it's a football shaped like a fucking nuclear weapon, for Christ's sake!
It's got whistles on the side,
John Elway did all the commercials for them.
Hi, I'm John Elway, and I could throw this motherfucker into the stratosphere
if I wanted to.
(Whistling)
(Ding)
So of course, one day the unthinkable happens.
"I'm gonna kick the football!"
- Don't kick the football, Michael! - Kick it?
- Don't kick it, god damn it! - Alright, I'm kicking it!
(Pom!)
And sure as hell, my Vortex goes straight into that mean old lady's backyard.
"Oh my God, Michael, what have you done!"
"I don't care if your ass is getting chainsawed in half or not!"
"You're getting your ass over that fence and you're getting that goddamn Vortex football!"
So Michael approaches the house,
knowing his chances of survival are about as good as his shitty kicking abilities.
That fat-ass cat sitting on the porch, licking his lips and shit.
"Oh, looks like I got me a baby to eat."
Somehow Michael gets behind the fence undetected,
we're all just standing there,
just waiting to hear the sound of a child getting murdered by a chainsaw.
"Hey, Michael!
Make sure you throw the Vortex before you get your head chopped off, okay?"
I'm over there praying to John Elway and shit.
"Please, John Elway,
please deliver Michael's misguided ass to my vortex football!
He's willing to die for it, or at least he should be,
since he kicks like a fucking girl."
Like five minutes go by and we're starting to lose hope,
"Well, I think it's safe to say Michael's dead."
"You guys wanna go inside and play Sega Genesis?"
But then out of nowhere,
(Whoop!)
somehow Michael fucking gets this Vortex football back.
"I did it, I got the Vortex!"
And then all of a sudden...
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Michael got his fucking head chopped off.
"Oh my God, what the hell!"
Alright, alright, no, that didn't happen.
In fact, nothing happened that day.
We got the football and we got the hell out of there.
And you know why nothing happened?
Well, because that old lady fucking died a couple weeks before that.
I know that's a shitty ending,
but we didn't know it at the time,
so it was a big win for us.
I mean, we got the Vortex football back!
And a couple of wiffle balls on top of it.
I wasn't until we've seen that her house was up for a sale a couple weeks later,
that we began to piece things together.
But even after that mean old lady was gone,
her fat-ass cat remained.
And it'd still watch us all the goddamn time,
licking his lips and shit.
"One of these days, little babies..."
"I'm gonna eat ya one of these days."
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