By now, everyone has probably heard enough about the next-door neighbors.
Moving right along...many years later, after I'd finished college and gone off to work in comic books in the big city, my sister moved from Alexandria to the Shenandoah Valley. That's in Virginia, and it's the valley between two mountain ranges. Most of us are familiar with the Appalachian Trail part, which runs along the Blue Ridge Parkway and Skyline Drive.
My sister lives in a trailer there, on a small patch of land. About ten years ago, before everyone carried cell phones, she heard a knock on her door.
A woman stood outside. "May I please use your phone?"
Sure. My sister let the woman in, and she made a call and then left.
My sister went out for a while. When she returned, her answering machine light was flashing. She hit "Play."
There were a half-dozen threatening messages from some jerk, all along the lines of "I'm going to kick your @ss unless you tell me where my wife is. My Caller ID shows she called from this number."
My sister called the police. A deputy came over, listened to the messages, and gave her some advice.
"You have a gun?"
"I have a small gun my father gave me."
"You know how to use it?"
"Yeah, I think I do."
"Okay, well, if he comes around, shoot him. But don't wait until he's in the house and trying to hurt you. Shoot him when he's outside. Then drag him in and beat the sh*t out of your lock so it looks like he broke-and-entered."