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.
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