The Russians Next Door

There is a new mystery on my parent's road. The road my parents live on is one with a rich history of myth, legend and rumor. I am often privy to all this conjecture as I once lived there and I am one of the few people my mother talks to and can spread the lore. The other persons would be my father, my sister and my aunt-- who lives next door and who, for the record, is usually the source of said lore.

Some past mythology includes, just to pique my readers' (aka Steph) interest: The Goat Massacre of 1997; the supposed ex-stripper who is married to the guy who makes the signs; exactly which house Paul Newman supposedly owns; the previously mentioned turkey;the secret room in the ginormous house and the rumors on how they got "all their money"; the indiscretion of a certain city councilman; the hoopla surrounding the threat on Kroger Man and his personal guards and much much more.

The latest incident involves "The Russians Next Door" (formally Kroger man's house) to my aunt. I have never seen these people so I don't know if they are actually Russian. The rumor is that he is a doctor, is married and that they have children of various ages-- probably middle and high school. The Russians, according to my sources, have "wild" parties, shootoff fireworks and jump in their pool in the dead of winter. They sound like fun people to me but, according to my sources, are not friendly. Now I must say that my source tends to view those who are even slightly less than socially gregarious unfriendly. Meaning, if you don't come over to chat, extend the small talk into gossip and be genuinely overtly over neighborly, you are unfriendly. I think most people I know, myself included, would be considered unfriendly by such exhausting social standards.

This past Tuesday Carmella was spending time at my mom's--vacationing, if you will, from the house of diarrhea. Apparently, on Tuesday the mail was late. And there was an argument between my mother and Carmella as to why. Carmella said it wasn't coming because it was President's Day and the post-office was closed (guess what they learned about at school that day!). My mom argued that the post-office observed President's Day on Monday and today was Tuesday so they were open and the mail was late because her mailperson is lazy.

Regardless, the mail didn't come til long after Carmella had come home. So my mom sent my dad out to fetch the mail. He came running back into the house telling her to call my aunt that there was an ambulance sitting outside her driveway. My mom called and all was fine at my aunt's. My aunt sent my cousin to investigate. My stealth cousin reported that the ruckus was at the Russians' house. She got her binoculars and said that there were 3 police cars, an ambulance, a "paddy wagon" and a big truck had just pulled up into drive. Out of the big truck got a man with what looked like to her a medical bag. (Draws in of breath)

My mom raced over there but the ruckus seemed to be over. The paddy wagon, the police cars, the ambulance, owners' cars, and the truck were all gone. My cousin maintained that one of the police cars was still parked in the garage and the police must be " conducting an investigation." They argued for awhile about the likihood of this and "what it could mean."

And then, of course, there was the discussion of "what happened." The theories range from murder to suicide to drowning in the pool from getting in it in the dead of winter. As to "the who" the theories are: one of the teenage children, a maid, an elderly visiting relative that no one knew about or some other random visitor.

And, of course, what is most disturbing about this to my aunt, besides not knowing, is that she "can't bring them anything to eat." It is absolutely maddening!

As of today I have conflicting reports that their house last night was "all lit up" thus receiving mourners: and conversly, that their house was as "dark as death"--meaning no one had yet returned to the scene of the possible crime. My Dad did say he saw Mrs. Russian pull out of her driveway this morning and wave to him. This makes me think all is not what it seems. Mmmmmmm. . .

I will report more as I learn more.

I have to say that so far this incident has proved much less interesting than the Goat Massacre of '97 and the craziness involving Kroger Man.