Saturday, January 17, 2015
AT THE END OF MY STREET
At the end of my street there is man with a wooden leg. I don't know what he is planning but he has a very sinister look about him and he has been standing there for some hours, just glaring inscrutably and spitting out hunks of chewing tobacco every now and again. I go out onto the street periodically and stare back at him. He never moves. I am in the kitchen, fixing some eggs, just trying to listen to the radio and relax, but I can feel him out there. It's got to stop. Somebody's got to get that fucker off the street. I guess I could go talk to him, but that's not my style. I feel like things are going to go from one to a hundred very quickly with this situation. Jesus it's hot.