White Trash drama chez Tearfree

Last night at 1:30 Tearfree was awoken by the loud sound of shattering glass. She leapt from her bed and went to the window where she saw the boyfriend of the daughter of her dysfunctional across-the-street neighbours slamming a golf club into the windows of their huge Continental and then stalking off. Even though it was dark, she recognized him from his distinctive gait. Plus, earlier that day, he the girlfriend and her brother had all had a screaming match on their front porch which Tearfree and half the street heard.

So Tearfree went back to bed -- only to be awaken one hour later by another crash and more shattering glass as the boyfriend took out a few more windows and laid one one or two blows on the car's hood just for effect.

This morning, when bro and sis saw the damage just before 7 a.m., it was fuck this and shit that and ring Tearfree's doorbells since the car was parked right outside her house.

"Were you a witness?" they asked.

"Yes," Tearfree answered truthfully.

"Will you talk to the police?"

"Only if you don't tell him that it's me who's the witness because I do not like that man."

"We promise. We promise," they swore. Later, they came back and asked for Tearfree's name, telephone number and date of birth, all of which she provided without a fuss.

By the time Tearfree left for the dentist, however, she was catching on that it wasn't a secret that she was the star witness. And then this evening, another neighbour from across the street called out to her as she stood on the balcony, "I hear you saw everything."

"They said they wouldn't tell," said Tearfree.

"And you believed it?" said the neighbour, a notorious gossip who keeps tabs on everything.

Just so that you all know where to look for me if I disappear: the Witness Protection Program!