Sunday, October 23, 2011

Funzer Down



Once a house, now rubble... Hey-O, said the man with the green hat to no one in particular. About 20 or so locals had gathered to watch a big jawed mechanical dinosaur eat the Weemer summer bungalow. The last of the Weemers had died and there were simply no more Weemers to take over the property. Sally was it. Done, done and done... Not that -


Sally didn't try... to have a little Weemer, but she had no luck. Really it had nothing to do with luck, it was a matter of blocked tubes. But neither she nor any of her bevy of implanters had any idea. Only 65 when she died, at least she did it her way. At least! As she used to say, "I'll smoke and eat and drink and fuck like a sailor until the day I die (which turned out to be October 23, a year ago)."


Her grandfather Sid Weemer bought the near beach house for a song and a dreidel in 1950. Sid or Irv (Sally's father) would never have imagined the toothy metal jaws eating out their bedrooms or kitchen or any other part of the funzer. Ever since 3 year old Irv Weemer called the shore house the funzer, so did everybody else. Kids say stupid shit and adults follow suit. Cute!


Lots of Weemer fun-zer happened at 101 South Belvedere over the years. As for both Irv and Sally, they shared the distinction of getting schtupped there for their first times. Irv and Sally never shared their secrets with each other. Sid on the other hand got his first piece in a walk up on 143rd Street. The City tore down Sid's jump off point years ago and by the end of the week all three of the Weemers will share that distinction. Everybody remembers where the cherry busted...


Over the last 10 years the property values soared down the shore. Mid-Atlantic people always say down the shore, even if they have to travel north-northeast to get to the ocean. Consequently, the lot values were disproportionately more valuable than the houses themselves. So, when an old house like the funzer turned over, it was usually torn down. In fact, almost always torn down!


Sally's cousin, Midge, was the sole beneficiary of the will. Midge, who herself was ill with bad cases of fibromyalgia and agoraphobia, simply brokered the property to Cheatham Associates. After taxes, the funzer netted Midge $897,980. Nice take, considering Irv paid $8,675. Although none of the people watching the dino munch like a starved footballer knew the sale price was over a mill, there were rumors swirling. A million is still impressive!


Bricks here and there. Folks think bricks are strong. probably because of the Three Pigs. Sorry, but brick walls crumble like balsa wood when tapped. It was sickening to see how fragile the funser really was. The illusion of security as it pertains to a domicile is poppycock. The framed walls were holed without much of anything. If Sid or Irv were there, they would have puked.


Some Mexican guy was nonstop spraying a hose on the demains to keep down the dust. Still there were airborne particulates creating an almost fog. The hose snaked over to the house next door. American Demolition had taken the liberty of using Crowley's hose and water since the water and electricity going to Weemer's had to be turned off in order to get the demo permit. The small crowd was startled by Craig Crowley's blaring horn as he pulled into his driveway. He spotted that the hose was pulled out and headed to Weemer's.


Crowley behaved badly. He turned the spigot off and he yelled at Pablo. The stress of a next-door house razing is ulcer producing. Sadly for Craig, he has no idea just how upsetting the upcoming new construction will be. The guy with the green hat chirped, Hey buddy, you better take a chill pill. Indeed!

What no one there knew, including the guy with the green hat, was that Sally and Craig had been lovers. American Demolition wasn't just tearing down a house, for Craig, they were tearing out the last shreds of his heart.

E cosi va

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