My sandbag scenario is this: I've got a concrete wall guarding my front door and sandbags piled in front of that wall like steps so my parents and I can get in and out of the house without tearing our crotches. Well, one day the sandbag steps were noticeably reduced. It was the day, my douchebag "uncle" brought his workers to fix up the home he never lives in, the house next to mine. Apparently, my "uncle" pried my parents all day about how much it cost us to get our wall built, how many sandbags we had, what other measures we were taking to deflect the flood, and how much all of that cost. My family, used to this man's obsessive stinginess (he's as rich as hell!), were also used to helping our neighbors out. So, we gave him all the tips to protect his useless home from the flood. And he repaid us by stealing some of our sandbags when we weren't looking.
Now, before you jump to the conclusion that I jumped to conclusion about the missing bags, here comes the resolve: This morning, about 4 hours ago, there was a prolonged banging on my door. I knew it could only be one douche. Being the brat that I am, I ignored my "uncle's" call and also refused to wake my dad up for such a lowlife. Eventually however, dad woke up, realized my "uncle" and his henchmen were back in the neighborhood, and went down to do some damage control. What a hero.
He confronted my "uncle" about the missing bags. And when a man as honest as my dad accuses you, you know you have no way out except confession. So he confessed to stealing one bag and made his workers return one bag. Except he didn't just steal one... My dad then demanded that my "uncle" return 2 bags.
Deep down, I believe "2" was a generous offer from my dad. But I won't complain. I'm pretty proud of my dad. I still hate my "uncle" though. His comment after all of this was: "ขอโทษ... กูมักง่าย". Excuse me? You're sorry that you're negligent? So you were negligent of our intelligence, of our tendency to notice things? Gosh, even the truth from this man is despicable!
. . . . . . . . . .As I was writing this entry, one of his workers came into my property to urinate on my beloved banana tree. Funny how he thought he could get away with that. I saw him look left and right. Can't really tell if there is someone inside the house watching you, can you? Where I am blogging from is right behind the front door. I have a clear view of my banana tree. I wonder how many much more drama will occur before the day ends.