We have a man in our neighborhood named Gary. He’s the type of neighbor that you avoid eye contact with as it will result in a conversation lasting 20 minutes longer than it really should.
Eccentric is an understatement to describe Gary. Firstly, as an American he talks WAY too close then he should in your personal space. Second, Gary wears 1 of 2 shirts: either an orange and white striped polo with a white collar from 1989 or a Hawaiian shirt. Take your pick.
Next he has a cat named Toulouse. Now, being that I LOVE all things French, I know of the painter Toulouse Laurtrec. Sure as shit, that is who his cat is named after. Is it weird he has a cat? No. Is it weird he named it after a painter that painted red haired hookers? No. Is it weird that he puts Toulouse on a red leash? Yes. Then he stands there in his yard, frustrated that Toulouse doesn’t want to move.
Gary has 2 forms of transportation: a brown molester van and a blue, 50’s pick up truck that reads LOST SOULS on the back glass. Every night, Gary drives the brown molester van around the neighborhood approximately 1-2 times then parking it within a hair’s distance from his garage door. Then occasionally, dependent on his mood, he will take the lost souls pickup truck out for a spin. I am convinced that eventually they will find 4 virgins harnessed to his basement walls.
According to Gary, everyone is out to get him…..including our lawn boy. Tonight was no different. My husband went out to our porch to smoke only to discover an unusual car and an unrecognizable individual talking with Gary.
“You ok Gary?” That is all I heard.
30 minutes later, at 10:10 our door bell rings. Because I’m old school, I grab a butcher knife and my phone prepared to defend my children and home while I send my husband out to see who is ringing our door bell. Of coarse it’s Gary.
After realizing my cubs and I aren’t in trouble, I do the next best thing: pull out my phone and record my husband’s conversation with Gary. My husband’s disdain for this man is dripping off every word…and it’s hilarious.
Gary apparently was conspiring with someone about our lawn boy. According to Gary, our lawn boy took it upon himself to take a few bricks and hurdle them towards his $5,000 garage door. Additionally Gary is convinced there is a drug ring in the forest behind our neighborhood and he doesn’t vote for some stupid reason. He is a Doomsday Prepper’s Wet Dream.
Anywho…… we wasted 5 minutes of our lives we will never get back, our lawn boy is the enemy and I’m up telling you guys the story. Ha!