Ol' Mrs. Frau was probably the meanest old lady I've ever met. She was like that demon six year old everyone has to babysit at some point. She would whack people with her cane, throw rocks and burnt cookies at people... And they weren't a little burnt, they were hard crips of black charcoal with chocolate chips.  She'd destroyed friendships, relationships, and even projects for school.  I remember one time I was walking to school with my freshly painted pottery bowl on a paper plate in my hands, to ensure it's safety. Boy was I wrong.

Just as I was halfway past Mrs. Frau's house, all of a sudden I get attacked by this powerful jet stream of water. It shoots into my bowl, knocking it out of my hands and sending it crashing onto the road.  It broke in two, but maybe I could glue it together at school.  So I bent down to pick up the pieces and all of a sudden this car zooms by way over the speed limit and just obliterats my pottery bowl.  I stood up to yell at my attacker and got drowned in another stream of water. The only thing she said to me that morning was "Whoops. Didn't see ya there."

That day, I tried to tell my parents but they didn't believe me. My dad didn't even care. He was more concerned over the fact I let a chick get the best of me.

Anyway, Mrs. Frau was a demon. She was like the monster under little kids beds,  because the only one who ever seems to see her or get attacked by her is children and teens.  I've never seen her do anything too bad to an adult, to them she was just rude.

Point being, this lady was the equivalent to a 96 year old piece of shit, and that was a mutual thought of everyone. So I was a little surprised today to come home to everyone all depressed and crying over her.

I walked inside and it was almost like a wave of despair washed over me. All my friends and neighbors, plus my family were in the house. Everyone had on dark and semi-formal clothing and almost all the chicks had those short black lace veil things over their faces.

I stuck out like a sore thumb, wearing light wash blue jeans and a white shirt with the worst possible caption. It had a picture of the grim reaper and the words "Not scared of you".

"What?" No answer.

"Why is everyone crying?" No answer.

"Who died?" Tears galore.

Mike walked up to me and clasped my shoulder. "Man, I'm so sorry to be the one to tell you this."

I asked him what the heck he was talking about.

"It's Miss Frau. She-she's passed."

Now, before I show you what happened next, you should know I am not very skilled in the art of filtering what I say. Don't judge me for what I did next, okay?

"What? Are you serious?!"

"Yeah, I know. I'm so sorry ma-"

"THAT'S AWESOME! Haha, man the old bat finally croaked huh? Good riddance am I right? Hah, party at my place?"

And that, dear readers, is why I'm currently locked in my room. Grounded. My mom snatched me up by my ear and threw me in my room. She stuffed a chair under the doorknob too, so I'm literally locked in my room.

My friends did their best not to chuckle at my idiotic outburst, but the cleverly placed coughs weren't enough and their mom's took them home too.

Butt I mean c'mon! Miss Frau was an ancient bitch! She was the literal dragon of the neighborhood! There was a period in which mom's made their kids walk an extra two streets to avoid walking in front of her house. Halloween never touched her property, nor did Christmas or Easter cheer. The woman used to put horrifying statues in her yard, not to keep away trespassers, but just to scare the shit out of people.

There was even an instance in which she "accidentally" forgot to lock up her mean ass dog and "accidentally" forgot to close the gate. That dog killed her neighbor's cat and traumatized like thirteen kids including myself.

I can go on and on about the horrors Miss Frau put the neighborhood through, but it won't change the fact I'm grounded. I won't say I'm glad she's dead, or that she deserved it because that's just cruel. I'm just saying it's a bit of a 300 pound weight lifted off my and the rest of the street's shoulders.

I don't care how much they cry and put flowers on her porch. These people are glad as hell. It's like when your rabid pet bunny has a heart attack and dies. You're relieved he's died on his own terms so you wouldn't have to pay for his hospital bills and whatnot, but your going to pretend to be all depressed and crap.

Lock me in my room all you want mom. We'll celebrate later.