Friday, May 15, 2015


When I found out that I was getting a new neighbor to replace the much beloved Girardi's, I was a little disappointed that a family wasn't moving next door.  There were no children for Derek to play with, and no mom for me to bond with.  My neighbor turned out to be a 40-ish year old bachelor, but I still figured that I'd give him a chance.

The jerk's bike look something like this

Well, on the night he moved in, there was a thunderstorm.  I should have taken that as an omen.  He was nice at first, but I eventually realized that I  don't like him.    (He's handsome, I must admit, but I would not go as far as the scouting report said.  Sure, he's tall--didn't really look at him that closely, but as he stood in my hallway dripping water all over my tiles, he towered over Philip).

Anyway, he turned me off as soon as he sat down at my table and started to talk.  I don't know what it was about him--his cocky attitude, his tattoo or the way that he thinks that his shit doesn't stink (sorry about that one, but I had not other way to describe him).  Just a stupid devil-may-care, who's cooler than me attitude.  He also has a staring problem that Philip didn't seem to notice.

Derek and Philip seem to like him--of course.  I call it a sort of a hero worship. He has this enviable (to them, anyway) bachelor lifestyle.  Women everywhere, a pilot's license (used to be in the navy) and drives a stupid motorcycle that he restored himself.  He even promised to take Derek for a ride in both.  I can tell you one thing--he will have to drive over my dead body.

No comments:

Post a Comment