Ode to the Crack House

So, I live in a lovely newish town house in downtown Houston. To the north is a credible business, to the west are more, newer town homes, to the south older houses, and to the east a crack house. When I look out my large and uncovered kitchen window I see a mustard yellow house that is boarded up, there is an empty lot in front of it and yet another house that is boarded up, this house is light tan. Just east of these two condemned houses is a small brick house...the Crack House. It's interesting to watch the goings on of this little house because sometimes it would seem that things are normal, and sometimes it would not.

The house is small and built of red bricks. There are bars on all of the windows and doors. In the backyard, where they park their no longer working pick up and their everyday car, is a trampoline and several pit bulls. You did in fact read that correctly, several pit bulls. Why would one house need so many rough housing dogs? They sell crack of coarse.

One morning in late November, the police were at the house very early...6 AM early. What would police being doing at some one's home, much less at 6 AM. Domestic violence caused by an argument over a drug deal...it's so simple.

I have no hard evidence to prove my theory, but as I sit hear stealing their unsecured wireless Internet I have to think, that old garage has no car in it...meth lab!