During college I lived in one of those big, hundred-year-old houses that clutter up the surrounding area of most college campuses. This one was split out into four separate ‘apartments’ that all shared the same kitchen and bathrooms. It was, of course, in the ‘student ghetto’, where rent was cheap and neighbors were, um, suspect.

And of these ghetto neighbors, rather than other jack-ass college kids such as ourselves, my roommates and I had the misfortune of ending up next door to a white-trash redneck family. The wife was a mousy, stringy, peroxide blonde and her husband was the quintessential ball-cap wearin’, beer-gut totin’, pick-up truck drivin’ working-man type. But the adults really weren’t the problem. They were more entertaining than anything else.

The trouble came from the couple’s two bratty little kids. These runts were up at the crack of dawn every day, screeching and shrieking at the tops of their lungs, running all through both their own yard and ours, banging pots and pans and crashing into things. It was bedlam. And to a college kid who spent the previous night drinking until four in the morning, about the most painful thing you can experience is two obnoxious kids screaming outside your bedroom window at 8am.

Apart from the constant noise, our neighbor’s home was just an absolute mess. It looked like something out of a National Lampoon’s movie. They had this huge, ugly ass RV parked in the driveway, and there were crappy dirty kids toys strewn all over the front lawn. We were constantly having to toss plastic tricycles and hula hoops and what-not back over into the neighbor’s yard, just to get them out of our driveway so we could park our cars.

And the absolute worst was in the summer when they put up the kiddie pool in the front yard. They had one of those big rectangular inflatable deals that was about a foot deep and ten feet long by five wide. Those damn kids would be out there splashing around and shouting at the top of their lungs by seven o’clock in the goddamned morning. It was just too much.

So, drunkenly one evening while sitting out on our front porch, my roommates and I decided it was time to get the family out of there. So we started jokingly brainstorming ways to convince the neighbors to move. Then Dan stated the obvious that all of us had overlooked.

“Seriously guys. We’re four gay college guys. What’s gonna freak out a southern redneck family more than seeing two guys having sex? All we need to do is start fucking with the windows open, and I guarantee you there will be a Uhaul on that lawn in no time!”

Dan’s suggestion was hilarious and absurd, but after a few moments of drunken thought, it just really didn’t seem so crazy at all. We shared that moment of contemplative thought, the expression on each of our four faces relaxing from a silly grin to that of more of an inquisitive pondering. “Huh…” I said finally. “You know, I think you might be onto something.”

Charlie chimed in with an extension of the idea, “Hell, why limit ourselves to doing it in front of open windows. We’ve got this whole big front porch here with this strong, sturdy railing!” He reached over from his collapsible lawn chair and padded the weathered railing that ran the length of our front porch. We all laughed at this.

Then Kevin