My neighbor turns out to be a drug dealer under surveilance by the local
narc squads.
 
Oh great.  Every once in a while Harry Crumb and Mikey wrestle on the
dashboard of my motorhome...can't turn it around 'cause my sewage connection
and other plumbing ain't long enough.
 
Arg.  Oh well...worst case, the manager of the trailer park is a buddy of
mine, he knows all about the furkids (including babysitting during a
vacation) and is in real thick with the city cops; we should be OK.
 
But it's just my luck, huh?
[Posted in FML issue 1722]