The Karen Next Door
By Rude Boi, rudeboi66@yahoo.com
The neighborhood Karen teaches a man to mind his own business


"Good morning Pete, good morning Marcy!" Ramesh waved to his neighbors and
smiled as he sat on his front porch, nursing his coffee. The older couple,
each trailing behind large golden retrievers, waved back and smiled brightly.
Ramesh had been working himself to the bone, striving for a promotion that had
finally been announced on Friday. Now, on his first Saturday off in weeks, he
was content to do nothing more than watched the neighborhood go by, soaking up
the late morning sunshine and fresh air, reveling in the rare feeling of
relaxation.

Out of the corner of his eye Ramesh caught a glimpse of a figure cutting
across his lawn, and his complacency was shattered by a shrill shout. "You!"
called the short, 40-ish woman as she stalked up to the foot of his porch.

"Oh hi..." he pretended to wrack his brain for her name, "Lauren?" Lauren was
the single-mother who lived next door. He didn't really know her, other than
an occasional forced hello, and the truck in her driveway plastered with
stickers like "My Guns My Rules" and "Make America Great Again" told him he
probably didn't want to. But he knew more about her than he let on. The first
time they met and he had gotten a good look at her thick ass and muscular
thighs, he'd been compelled to look her up online. A mildly successful online
fitness model whose posts largely consisted of selfies in the gym mirror or
glamour shots of her shooting guns in bikinis, she was trashy but also,
despite the bad spray tan and ludicrous fake breasts, undeniably pretty. And
that ass...

"Don't hi me, you foreign piece of shit."

"Whoa," Ramesh said, taken aback, "We're doing that huh?" He dug in his pocket
and swiftly pulled out his phone, pressing record. "I'm an American, lady. And
if you have anything to say about that, it's going viral tonight. What do you
want?"

"Did you tell my son he couldn't walk our dog in the park?"

Ramesh struggled for a moment to realize what she was talking about. Two days
earlier, Ramesh had chastised her son, Johnny, when their pitbull got loose in
the dog park. Ramesh and his chihuahua, Minnie, only escaped getting bitten by
scrambling onto a picnic table. "No," he replied calmly, "I just told him that
maybe he shouldn't walk that dog by himself. It's twice his size! It tried to
attack me and Minnie."

"You don't tell my son to do anything, asshole," she shouted, wagging a long,
hot-pink fake nail in his face.

"This isn't the first time it's happened," Ramesh spat back, anger building
inside him. "That dog is a menace. It's a danger to the neighborhood and to
Johnny. You need to handle your business, lady. Otherwise next time I'm
calling animal control AND social services."

"You aren't gonna do a damned thing, you towelhead fuck," she seethed.

Ramesh was livid now. "I was born 10 miles from here, Karen." he sneered. "And
I wanted to keep this polite, but I see you've got no interest in that, so
guess what, you're getting canceled by the morning." He switched the camera
and spoke to his audience-to-be. "Yo, everybody, get on it and cancel this
fucking racist-ass Karen."

"Put that fucking phone down!" She snatched at it but Ramesh dodged her. "Put
that fucking phone down," she repeated, "Or I'm gonna kick your ass." They
were a study in physical contrasts. Ramesh was 5'10", reed-thin except for a
slight paunch. Lauren was only 5'3", but she was stout, built like a brick
shithouse. Her cropped tank-top revealed capped shoulder, powerful, sinewy
arms, and abs carved from granite.

Ramesh thought of himself as a gentleman. He didn't want to fight any woman,
but he especially did not want to fight this one. He'd seen videos of her
repping 250 on the bench. "Yo, I'm not gonna fight you lady," Ramesh shouted,
hoping his neighbors would hear. He needn't have bothered. The commotion was
already attracting attention, and Ramesh could see neighbors gawking from
their porches and peering out windows, some with phones in hand.

"Then you're gonna get beat the fuck down!" She lunged, lowered her shoulder
and plowed into him, knocking him onto the lawn and sending the air rushing
from his lungs and his phone flying. As he lay on the ground, stunned, Lauren
sprinted over and scooped his phone off the grass. Ramesh crawled to his feet,
but she stepped in and kicked him hard in the ribs, sending him sprawling onto
his back.

She pounced, straddling him and pinning him to the earth. "I was just gonna
break your phone, but, honestly, I don't even need to. Try to cancel me. Half
of my followers agree with me, and the rest are little sissy perverts who pay
to stare at my muscles. Like you." Ramesh averted his eyes in shame. "They
don't give a shit what I say. And I bet they'd all love to see me beat you
senseless."

Ramesh thrashed underneath her, but her powerful calves held his arms
immobile. "Get the fuck off of me, cunt," he shouted as he struggled beneath
her. He glanced towards the house across the way, desperate for someone to
intervene, and locked eyes with an older woman in the window. Marcy! Surely,
he thought, she and Pete would come to his rescue. But he was quickly
disabused of that notion as he watched the blinds draw shut.

Slipping the phone into her bra, with the camera still rolling, Lauren
provided a first-person view as she landed one brutal punch to his face, then
another. On the fourth, Ramesh felt his cheek cave in. The seventh broke his
nose. But still fresh blows fell, again and again and again until his face was
a puffy, shattered, bloody mess. As he struggled for air, she slid off of him,
rolled him to the side and climbed on his back, wrapping her thighs around his
midsection and looping a strong arm around his throat.

Without mercy she snapped her legs tight, feeling his weak core give way to
her. Ramesh's ribs creaked under her power, and still she increased the
pressure. He let out a pitiful wail as his ribs collapsed with a slow, wet
crack. As Lauren felt him breaking beneath her mighty thighs, she tightened
her arm around his neck. As she squeezed him out with one arm, she flexed with
the other, making sure to get a shot of her massive bicep in frame. "My guns,
my rules, bitch."

Lauren released her unconscious victim, kicking him away. She stood, fixed her
hair and retrieved the phone from her bosom, turning the camera on herself.
"My name is Lauren Miles. Go ahead and cancel me, motherfuckers. Call me a
Karen and see if I care. But if you liked what you saw, don't forget to
subscribe to my Onlyfans," she said with a wicked smile and a flick of her
hair.

She turned off the video and punched three digits into the phone. A swift kick
to his balls stirred Ramesh from his slumber, and she tossed the phone on top
of him. "Those broken ribs might have punctured some internal organs. If the
ambulance gets here in time to save you, I suggest you get the fuck out of
here. We don't want your kind. And in the future," she said, delivering
another kick to his balls, this one so vicious that he rolled to his side,
vomiting, "Mind your own fucking business."

She tromped back to her house, leaving the barely conscious Ramesh alternately
coughing and sucking in air, as a voice called out to him, "911... what's your
emergency."