Mr. Roger's Neighborhood It Ain't......

And my hackles raise at the thought of any of these people becoming my neighbors.
Ever speculate just from whence wicked comes? Apparently, where you least expect it. When you see ostentatious homes outfitted with lush landscaping, and the finest in decorating, does it spring images of "A little slice of Hell on Earth" to your mind? You'd be very surprised what evil lies hidden in the hearts and homes of men, shut away from public view.


The neighborhood we resided in has several divided sections. Us, living amongst the "poor folks" in the front, while the back of the subdivision featured a more exclusive estate development. This photo shows the home where my Mom witnessed the unexplainable and terrifying. As she careened her truck around the curve of the cul-de-sac in the very wee hours of the morning, she noticed that all the outside lights of the home, and also the street lights had gone dim, leaving things dark and shadowy. Undeterred, my Mom soldiered on until she saw that the curtains in the front windows had been flung back revealing a swarm of people hovering together in a candle flickering kitchen. The people all wore blood red hooded robes. Sensing that almost certainly something was wrong, my Mom hastened to drive away from that street. When, all of a sudden, the people burst through the front door and started chasing after her. On foot. I'm not sure how they thought they could catch a truck while running in their goofy floor length robes, but my Mom easily escaped. They have new residents living there now, but prior to their arrival, my Mom continued to see strange happenings all around this home.

My Mom took a part time newspaper route when my brother's disabilities prevented her from continuing on in her employment as an accountant. Not a glamorous job, to be sure, but it kept us in Hamburger Helper and name brand clothes stamped "Irregular" on the label. Around dusk, my Mother began throwing this route a short distance from our home. (Emma Jo, if you're reading this, this house is catty corner from The Rumsey's house! :O) She had just gotten started, when a fat, balding middle aged man came out of his house waving his arms and screaming hysterically at her. Of course, my Mom halted to find out the problem, something that she NEVER does anymore. The man commenced to yelling, and shrilly telling her in the most floweriest of prose and profanity, that he didn't want the *%!#@$ newspaper littering his property, and that he happened to be an exalted member in good standing with the Satanic Church. Yes, he identified himself as a Satanist right there, in front of his home, in middle class Houston, just half a mile from our Temple. Wouldn't you think he'd conjure up his powers to acquire a little plastic surgery, and gastric bypass, or join The Hair Club For Men? Stunned, my Mom opened her mouth to say something, but he prattled on, and informed her that if he EVER received another paper on the front lawn, he would place a curse upon her head. To this day, wide eyed people ask if he really did put some sort of hex on her, and she laughingly replies that he must have, because she still has to throw the stinkin paper in that neighborhood. Now, after this incident, my Mom started to take more notice of the goings on around this house. It wasn't unusual to see America's favorite Satanists holding big shindigs at their abode where every single late model vehicle parked against the curb came manufactured by Cadillac, Lexus, and Mercedes. It also wasn't unusual to glance inside the home during their soirees, and see the party goers cloaked.......in black hooded robes.

Here's my rant: These are deceivingly regular folks living it up in suburbia, sending their kids to the local schools, and shopping amongst us at the corner grocery store. That really weirds me out. The thought crossed my mind of what it would feel like to party with these people.

Would the crimson hooded coven get together to work up a viable strategy plan to paddle the butts of the black hooded cult in the next "Hades Annual Ping-Pong Tournament?"

Do you think they serve Devil's Food cake, and lots of flambe stuff? Perhaps, they ruthlessly banished that one misguided cult member who brought Angel's Food cake to the party. I wonder if they've ever been tempted to slice up a little goat for dinner after roasting it in sacrifice? Or, maybe they prefer to eat a lot of Soul Food.

I can imagine two cloaked cult mothers discussing concern for their teenaged spawn because they only want to watch back to back marathons of "Touched By An Angel", and "Highway To Heaven." They shrug, and blame it on teenage rebellion. The same mothers sigh in resignation that their younger children want to dress up as Angels for Halloween, and go Christmas caroling with their friends.

Would all the invitations have cute little, red-faced diablos on them, inviting the recipient to "come and have a devilishly good time?" Everyone knows that bad puns signifies the deepest of evil.

Do they have a mix tape of all Led Zeppelin's music played backwards to liven up the festivities? Or do they just loop "Disco Inferno" endlessly? That really would be Hell. Summer parties bring nonstop "Limbo" party fun!

I wager there's at least one woman who peddles the exclusive "Bride Of Satan" cosmetics line, and she badgers all the other women into agreeing to come to her makeup trunk party where they can buy the latest in black lipstick, and ghostly white pancake facial powder. There's also always one annoyingly self-conscious woman who will spend the night asking people if her robe of death makes her butt look too big.

Inevitably, talk will turn to the big sale on pentagrams, yellow werewolf contact lenses, and sacrificial altars seen down at the local Purgatory Republic store.

Maybe they reminisce about failed incantations. "Hey Bob, remember when I misread the Book Of Spells, and shouted out "Amway" instead of "Away", and we ended up with a house full of living dead sales representatives trying to get us to buy cheap light bulbs? Ahhh, good times."

Things get confusing as the festivities wrap up and the parents try rounding up their kids, since most of them share the names of Damian, Damon, or Lucy.

A word to the wise; Listen to the admonition given to you by the fine, moral characters on Sesame Street, and find out just who are the people in your neighborhood, in your neighborhood, in your neighborhood. Because, Satan worshippers are people in your neighborhood, in your neighborhood, YES, in your neighborhood.