The 'Burbs

We all have those neighbors. The really weird ones. You know, the ones who let their grass grow too long. Who leave random vehicle parts and/or unsightly bits of home improvement projects on the front lawn/driveway/sidewalk. The ones who process wild game in their garage with the doors open. . . .oh, wait. . .that would be us. . .
No, I'm talking about the really freakin' WEIRD neighbors. The ones nobody knows or talks to.
We had an episode involving THOSE neighbors this weekend.
My DH was tinkering with the Jeep (replacing a serpentine belt, to be exact) and I was raking the three billion pine needles from the lawn because it gives me great satisfaction when I noticed that the fella who lives on the house across the street next to our good friends had come out with a small hacksaw and proceeded to hack at his crepe myrtle tree.
That in itself was pretty funny because it was just so random.
Then things got weird. And deliciously blog-worthy.
The hacksaw just wasn't cutting it, so the dude went back into the house and came out with a meat cleaver. A frikkin' MEAT CLEAVER. And he started chopping the hell outta that crepe myrtle like it was a saw. I was totally amazed. And I was waiting for him to accidentally chop one of his own limbs off.
There was absolutely no way to take a picture without it being really obvious and, well, I sure didn't want to piss off the neighbor with the frikkin' meat cleaver.
So, sadly, there is no documentation of this event. Well, I guess I could take a picture of the now-massacred crepe myrtle but that's really no fun. . .
Now before you call me un-neighborly, I must say that we try to be nice to these neighbors, but we have zero interaction with them. It also didn't helps that soon after we moved in the husband and another man stood in the front lawn with their arms folded and directed as the wife mowed the lawn with an electric mower. They pointed out all the spots she missed. And they were not nice about it. (Not that I have anything against a woman mowing the lawn--personally, I feel very accomplished when I do it. There was just something "off" about the whole scene.)
Then there's the language barrier, which is a common theme in our neighborhood. My best guess is that they are from the East. The very East. Like, so East it's almost West again. I think they might be Realtors for their demographic. Or at least that's what I imagine the advertisement on their Toyota minivan is for. But who knows. . .they could be running a meth lab in there for all I know.
And I don't care. Just as long as they stay far away from me and my shrubbery with that doggone meat cleaver!