Saturday, September 17, 2005

"Mayberry: Gateway To Danger" (or "Is There A Friggin' Full Moon This Weekend, Or What?!")

I marched out sadly but dutifully to repair my damaged shed this late afternoon just as I had fixed my fence early this morning. As I neared the back fence I heard some metallic rustling right at the spot on the alley side where the thieves knocked out the cedar pickets to commandeer my prized pressure washer and mower last night. I climbed up on the fence stringers and peered over to find a man squatting with a backpack, and sucking on a crumpled up beer can.

I asked him if I could help him, which I thought was extremely polite, given the circumstances. He replied, "No. Just smoking some weed." I restrained myself from grabbing the nearest garden implement; instead, retorting, and with good manners, "Please take it somewhere else."

It seems that my back fence has become crime central in Salemtown this weekend.

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