Weasel Words

 
Sometimes drastic situations require thinking outside the box to provide novel solutions.  

“Honestly Granddad I’m at my wits end, they were at it again last night until four this morning. I don’t know how much longer I can go on.” Jenny sniffed and wiped a tear from her eye. "They have rap music blaring night and day and their language is disgusting. Little Billy is terrified of playing in the garden, yesterday they threw a big slab of concrete over the fence, it could have killed him if it had hit him.”    
    
The final straw had been when Jenny came home from her part time job that afternoon to find that an obscenity had been scrawled across her window in human excrement.
    
Mick looked serious his normally smooth brow was knit in a deep frown he hated to see his granddaughter like this. It was the third time this month she’d come over to ask if she and Billy his three year old grandson could stay the night. Her neighbours, a family called Witzell, known locally as the Weasels were one of the county’s worst antisocial problem families. They seemed to revel in antagonizing their neighbours, appearing in court and being the local press.
    
The ‘Weasel’ family consisted of Alice Witzell the matriarch her husband Jock a giant of a man who came and went as he pleased between his home and that of his pregnant lover, two sons Keylon and Jago aged sixteen and eighteen respectively their fourteen year old sister Jaynie-Shannon completed the household.
    
Keylon and Jago rode around the district on a noisy motor cycle or sat on it in the garden revving the engine for what seemed like hours at a time. They partied most nights getting drunk and fighting and on more than one occasion they had urinated through Jenny’s letter box. Jaynie-Shannon delighted in screeching obscenities at Jenny every time she saw her in her garden.
    
True the local authorities had threatened to evict them but that was a long process the threat of which served only to goad the Witzells on to even more outrageous behaviour. Lately they had bought a large fierce looking dog which, with some predictablity, they had named Tyson. The animal spent its time chained in the garden barking when the lads were not parading it around the streets showing it off and intimidating folk. It seemed there was no one who had the courage to stand up to this family from hell, or was there?
    
If Jenny protested to the Witzells they only sneered at her, if she called the police they threatened her and her son. As a single mother she felt isolated, trapped with no one to turn to. The police had other priorities and were too slow to respond effectively, the other so-called ‘Authorities’ had had a word with the Witzells on numerous occasions; the Social Services were mostly too scared to call and when the local council people did eventually call to ‘gather evidence’ as they put it they came at nine thirty in the morning when all was quiet because the Witzell's were still in bed nursing hangovers.    
    
To Jenny and her neighbours it seemed that all they got was the run around “We’re doing our best Ms. Hartnell, it’s difficult to find appropriate accommodation for these families Ms. Hartnell blah, blah bloody blah Ms. Hartnell...”
    
Jenny went upstairs and prepared the spare room for her and Billy. Why she told granddad Mick her woes she didn’t know he was an old man for goodness sake well sixty eight was old in her eyes what on earth could he do about it a gentle old soul like him? She couldn’t tell her parents as they would simply advise her to forgive them and pray to the lord for a solution.

Granddad Mick was a widower and a good listener whom she adored so it was he, poor fellow, who was her shoulder to cry on. She little suspected that this time he would become directly involved with the Witzells.
    
Mick was as fit and active as a man of his age could be. He went swimming three or four times a week and walked everywhere weather permitting, he also had a very keen intelligence coupled with a readiness to take action when required. Although on the surface he was sweet natured, harmless older gentleman he was also a man who got things done and now as he sat deep in thought an idea was forming in his mind that might just fit the bill.    
    
Jenny finished preparing the room and went downstairs. “I’m going to pick Billy up from the nursery school now gramps can I make you a brew before I go?”
    
“No love I’m fine you get on.”
    
As soon as she had left the house Mick went out to his garden shed “Hummnn now let me see” he mused to himself. Oh yes he thought I’ll need to buy some of that and one of those. After rummaging around for ten minutes he’d finally assembled a small, divers collection of articles there was a small wooden stake, a funnel, some fishing line and a roll of gaffer tape which he stuffed into an old haversack he then locked the shed, checked his watch and saw he still had time to do a little research on-line before his granddaughter returned.
    
That evening with Billy bathed and put to bed Mick poured them both a drink and they settled into comfortable arm chairs but instead of putting the television on Mick said he had something to tell her.
    
“Jenny I think I have a solution to your problem it’s one I cannot divulge just now ‘cos I’m still finalising the details.”
    
Jenny looked dubious “What on earth are you talking about gramps? You can’t possibly take on the Witzells at your age.”
    
“Who said I was going to?” he queried, a sly look in his eye. “All I’m going to do is write them a note, a few words of advice you might say.”
    
Jenny’s jaw dropped she stared at him as though he’d taken leave of his senses. “A note?” She asked incredulously “what the hell good do you think note will do Gramps?”
    
“Ah well” Mick said conspiratorially “This will be a very special note, one that commands attention and will be taken seriously and that’s all I’m saying on the subject.”
    
“Like hell you are gramps” Jenny almost shouted “I want you to promise me you’ll not do anything hare brained or put yourself in danger.”
    
She looked at him through narrowed eyes she knew, gentle creature that he was, he could be as stubborn as a mule and impossible to move once his mind was made up. “Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself will you gramps? I couldn’t stand it if anything bad were to happen to you.”
    
“I promise darling girl now I’m off to bed for an early night I have a busy day tomorrow.”
    
Four days later Mick’s preparations were complete he got into his car with the small rucksack and drove the three miles to park about a mile from his destination where he left the car in a quiet cul-de-sac, donned a wide brimmed hat to shield his face from street cameras and walked to his granddaughter’s house. He didn’t stop but walked slowly past on the opposite side of the street glancing at the Witzell’s house taking in the details he would need. From the back of the house he could hear Tyson barking at nothing in particular. On what passed for a front garden Keylon and Jago were kicking a football about whilst through the open front door came the blare of gangsta rap.
    
At five thirty the following morning Mick crept down the side of Jenny’s house in the first glimmer of dawn and into her back garden. Over the broken fence Tyson started barking as Mick threw the dog a piece of meat he had prepared for the occasion. It was nothing lethal just enough to put the dog to sleep for a few hours.    
    
Mick waited until the animal had succumbed to the sedative then crept silently to the front door where he lifted the flap on the letterbox and made his delivery. After that swift action he pushed an envelope half though with a surgically gloved hand then moved into the front garden where he crouched down some four yards from the house and busied himself. Less than two minutes later he was making his way home job done.
    
At seven thirty a.m. Alice Witzell awoke with the feeling that something was not right, she didn’t know what it was but something had disturbed her slumber at what was, for her, an ungodly hour. She scratched her tousled head for a minute slowly gaining a higher level of consciousness; something was definitely wrong.
    
Climbing out of bed she donned a grubby housecoat and a pair of slippers and went to the bedroom door. It was upon opening the door that the smell hit her it was at once familiar but she couldn’t quite put a name to it. The rest of the house was quiet save for the snoring coming from the boys’ bedroom. She checked her daughter’s bedroom, the girl was sound asleep.

Feeling uneasy she made her way slowly downstairs her unease growing with every step she took, the smell getting stronger and stronger.
    
At the bottom she saw the white envelope sticking through the letterbox. As she went to retrieve it she at last recognised the smell, it was paraffin. As it soaked into her slippers wetting her feet Alice let out a strangled squawk and leapt out of the slippers and ran into the living room. Once in there she tore open the envelope and took out the single sheet of neatly typed paper. Her finger followed the words and her lips moved as she slowly read:
    
Dear problem family,
    
We who live around here are at the end of our patience with you and will tolerate no more of your vile behaviour. This paraffin could have been lit with devastating results for all your family. It was not lit on this occasion as it was meant to give you fair warning. This is the only warning you will get. You will from now on behave in a civilised manner, get rid of the dog and show consideration for your neighbours or you can move out, the choice is yours.
    
Alice’s hands shook as she realised the full implication of the threat she dropped the letter and ran up stairs screaming for the children to wake up. Dashing into her daughter’s room she shook her awake then ran into the boys’ room still screaming hysterically. The lads were not best pleased at being disturbed and started cursing her.
    
When they had calmed their mother down enough to discover what had happened Jago with the stupidity and bravado of immature youth threw on his jeans and ran down stairs shouting about showing these bastards who was boss around here. As he tore open the front door the fishing line Mick had attached to the door knocker pulled taut and detonated the large industrial firework he had tied to a stake in the garden. There was a bright flash and an almighty bang that blew out two windows of the Witzell’s house.    

The ashen faced youth leapt back into the house and dived behind the sofa screaming for his mother meanwhile the terrified Jaynie-Shannon cowered under her bed trembling and whimpering losing control of her bladder. Keylon had run out of the back door to fetch Tyson for reasons he alone knew only to find the animal was sleeping peacefully and could not be aroused.
    
The long suffering neighbours, Jenny included, thinking the bang was just another episode of anti-social behaviour on the part of the weasels didn’t even bother calling the police but, after looking through their curtains for a moment, went back to their slumbers after all it was Sunday morning.
    
Later that day Mick’s phone rang “Granddad you’ll never guess what's happened?" Jenny sounded overjoyed "Mrs Witzell said good morning to me today and actually smiled. A little while later she came to the door and said they were moving out today and staying with relatives 'til they found somewhere else and would I keep an eye on their house until they could arrange for their stuff to be moved so you see gramps whatever you were planning doesn't matter now; a letter wouldn't have worked anyway.”
    
“Oh that’s nice for you dear” said Mick sweetly “that’s very nice indeed.”