Mr. Schadenfreude revisited

My great grandfather was originally from the German speaking part of Switzerland, and was fluent in the German language. I am sure he would snicker at my attempt to pronounce my favorite German word. Which as anybody who has read my previous blogs knows is schadenfreude. This means, “Pleasure derived from the misfortunes of others.”
In one of my previous blogs, Mr. Schadenfreude, a.k.a Mr. Rattus. I mentioned the old adage “what goes around comes around” I wondered how that could be true as this bully was just running rough shod over his neighbors..
He was the major factor in my decision to try to buy a house and get the hell out of there. Before I did something to him that not only would get me into trouble with the law. But it would also embarrass my family.
As it turns out, that asshole (I was going to refer to him as a son of a bitch, but he would probably take that as a compliment) did me a favor by forcing my hand.
For financial reasons I searched for a house in a rural location. I was thinking about raising a few chickens in an isolated area far away from the likes of Mr. Rattus. But the longer the search ran on, the more reservations I had about leaving this area.
So I did something that I thought I would never do. I bought a mobile home. It is about two miles away from the Salisbury Housing Authority unit. It is also about the same distance to Toll road in Salisbury where I lived for many years.
Financially living in senor housing makes a whole lot of sense. Mentally it was like being a state ward again. I could never get comfortable there. There were a few nice people who I consider to be friends. But the majority of the population was not really people I would want to be involved with. Their favorite pastime was to sit around and bitch and moan and listen to their arteries harden. But it was plain to me that SHA was a huge up grade in their life style. It was practically a free ride for the majority of them.
Owning of course is a lot more expensive with utilities, taxes and maintenance. But it is worth every penny to be away from the likes of Mr. Rattuss. I still get to have gardens, but raising poultry or any small farm animals is out of the question. My neighbors are a huge upgrade over my previous ones. But then are all snobs to a certain degree. It’s all right to have their dogs come over and shit on your lawn or their cats hunt the birds at your feeder. But God forbid, they have to see a couple of hens as they grill their chicken wings.
So again I thank Mr. Schadenfreude for forcing me to make a move. I have ended up in an area that does not look like a trailer park, with large well landscaped lots and more trees than a forest. And the truth of the matter, most of my reservations where, I could not get comfortable with moving a long distance away from my kids or the area where I have lived all my life
Mr.Rattuss finally found out that what goes around comes around. As the legal system finally incarcerated him for ninety days in the county correctional facility, and evicted him from the SHA. During his stay in jail, he found what it was like to be bullied. He took a severe beating and had to be isolated from the other inmates for his own protection.
I’m glad all this transpired after I had moved out. Or I might have remained there.
I moved here in November of 2010 and started to enjoy a much more normal life style. I have only had one little bump in the road. On New Year’s Eve 2011 the weather report called for a bright, sunny and unseasonably warm new year’s day. I decided that I would be at Salisbury beach and start the New Year with photo’s of the sun appearing to rise right out of the ocean. I was standing on a dune snapping pictures when I heard a voice say throw the camera down and give me your wallet. I turned to see a young Hispanic man who was dressed like he did not care if his pants fell off and was not sure if he was coming or going as his hats brim was pointed west as he was facing east. My reply to that was there is no way I am throwing my camera in the sand. Then another voice said, don’t make me take my gun out. Throw the camera down and give us your wallet and anything else you have in your pockets. I turned and saw another taller Hispanic who evidently had the same humorous haberdasher. As he started to repeat this I turned and started walking away at a brisk pace. Peeking over my shoulder I saw that they were keeping pace. I sensed they did not have a gun or it would have come out as soon as I showed reluctance to obey them. Then to my relief there appeared a woman and two huge dogs coming over the dune right at us. The two would be thieves turned and ran off toward the seasonal homes and disappeared. I expressed my relief to the woman and asked her if she had a cell phone that I could use to call the police. Unfortunately she had left hers at home. So right away we had something in common. I told her she should be careful if she planned on walking the beach. Her reply was No! I think my dogs would like nothing better than to meet those two punks. And looking at those two mean looking giants straining at their leashes, I could not help but think she was right.
As I was walking home that morning I was sure that I had just met a couple more assholes who were about to spend a lifetime emulating, Mr. Rattuss.

After reading this blog,my daughter Diana chided me for stretching the truth.
She said she recalls me relating that on my walk home reality set in, and I was on the verge of soiling my trousers. She also recalls that after hearing what had transpired all four of my kids hoped that my stupidity was not heritary.