False Testimony; plus, True Harassment

   
   "False Testimony; plus, True Harassment"
   
   In the early 1990's, my family and myself moved to Franklin.  I was mortified to be shelled into such a constricting suburbia.
   I had been to plenty of physicians and priests; moreover, all they could deduce at the moment was Social Phobia and Agoraphobic tendencies.  Totally, I just wanted to deliver newspapers, write, read, and be left alone with my family; however, the neighbors had other ideas.
   The woman next door would just barge into our house and boisterously announce her proud presence.  I was mortified.  Once, on my way to deliver newspapers, she just bounced on in, without knocking, and I was in my underwear, getting changed.
   Things got worse.  They wanted me to start cutting their grass.  I didn't mind mowing the old lady's lawn across the street, for she was gentle and kind, but I was not about to be anybody's yard slave.
   They tried to pay me for it.  Called me on the phone numerous times, came to the door numerous times--I hid.  And when I did encounter them--I told them that I didn't want their money, yet they cruelly persisted in making me their boy.
   Their daughter was involved too.  She came over 4 times in one day, trying to give me money; I hid in stealth-like fashion.  Was just happy being a paperboy.  Too, the girl would have a guy over when her parents were out of town--all night long.  It sickened my Catholic celibacy.
   So, to take the edge off, I attempted to push them away--the art of deception.  Get rid of their intrusive, in-your-face style of neighboring.  I wrote a 90 page poem, using references that would conjure up literal offerings of her father's alcoholism.  It worked.  I didn't force her to read it, but put it on my property, and she retrieved it; next, gave false testimony to the police that I threatened suicide if she didn't retrieve it--bullcrap!!!
   My attorney called them Nazi-like.  And I didn't defend myself.  I couldn't publicly speak.  I couldn't even urinate in public.  It was all fabrication.
   Furthermore, she harassed my probation officer--he said we should get her for harassment.  I didn't; moreover, my probation officer adored me.  But I wasn't done.  Had to cement the fact that you don't fool with an Irishman.  James Joyce was with me.
   I don't walk with pride, but am humbled by life.  Though sometimes, you have to go shinobi.  You have to understand the Art of War.  And yes, I pray for my adversaries.  And all I want is to live in peace, without the mysteries of possible temptation concerning adultery crafted by their corporeal intrusions.  Just let me live in peace.  Still considering a Civil Lawsuit.