We’re quite convinced that our neighbours are all a bunch of weirdos (I mean seriously, one of them has a giant statue of a very naked man in the centre of an otherwise bare front garden. It now even has a huge red christmas bow attached to it….unfortunately around the neck, not where I think it should be located). But it has recently started to come to my attention that there’s a chance the neighbourhood is in trouble if we’re the sane ones.
A small sample of things our neighbours will have heard coming from our backyard:
On my new fairy door that keeps disappearing:
“Where the #%^! Is my fairy door, ducks?! Seriously! WHERE HAVE YOU PUT IT!? GIVE IT BACK RIGHT NOW!!”
Upon being pecked by one of the chickens, who is holed up in the coop, trying to hatch eggs that don’t exist:
“Thelma, WHY ARE YOU BROODY? I have a little crochet chicken here that looks just like you. DON’T MAKE ME USE IT AS A VOODOO DOLL”
To the duck boys. Often. Way too often:
“TAG TEAMING, GANG RAPE IS NOT ACCEPTABLE IN THIS HOUSE NORRIS AND QUACKMIRE!”
On the rules of dogs:
“You don’t actually have to eat what you’ve just sicked up Zeus, it’s not like a law or anything.”
Upon trying to take a nice photo to use on a save the date card for our wedding:
“What’s that in the corner of this photo? Zeus, what is this, where did it come from? IS THAT A GALAH’S WING? WHERE IS THE REST OF THE GALAH? OMG, this had better not be someone’s pet. Get inside, quick”.
To the ducks. Every. Damn. Morning:
“I’m getting the snack basket ready, just wait. I SAID WAIT! I CAN’T GET TO THE SNACK BASKET IF YOU’RE IN THE WAY. I’M GOING TO FALL OVER! WOULD. YOU. MOOOOOOVE!”
Upon trying to keep it PG for our guests:
“Duck Norris, just hurry up and get all your sexy time done now, we’ve got guests coming over”.
When I am enjoying cuddling a duck against their will:
“JUST STOP STRUGGLING AND LET ME LOVE YOU!”
Upon finding an extremely large, dead bandicoot in our yard:
Me to Ben: OH NO! The poor thing! CHECK IF IT IS FEMALE, IT MIGHT HAVE BABIES IN IT’S POUCH! Do they have a pouch?
Ben (holding it up): It’s not female.
Me (accusingly): How do you know?! You didn’t even have a good look!!
Ben: I looked.
Me: You had a quick glance, I don’t know how you could tell from there. CHECK IT PROPERLY.
Ben: *turns it over to show me the underside*
Me: WHOA! CHECK OUT THE SIZE OF THOSE BALLS! That is definitely a male!
During an exasperating conversation about what will be happening on Christmas Day and exactly how much we have to do between now and then:
The dogs Prozac is the same as human prozac isn’t it? Like, if I took some on Christmas Day it might be frowned upon, but it wouldn’t kill me, right?
Upon finding Morticia Flapems had her head stuck in the chicken wire and needed help to get out:
“What?! WHY? How can you be that stupid? I guess you hear people say “they’re a smart cookie” and never “they’re a smart duck” for a reason. Did you hear that Morticia? YOU ARE LESS INTELLIGENT THAN BAKED GOODS.
We’ve lived in our house for several years and have made no effort to get to know our neighbours at all. It seems now it’s probably better that way…