There Goes the Neighborhood

It's bad news everywhere we turn, here in the neighborhood.

There's one section of our little residential hideaway that we affectionately refer to as "Freak Street." Just about everything strange that occurs here, in the neatly manicured upper-middle-class whitebread territory of our happy 'hood, happens on this one street.

The naked guy: an older gentleman of questionable mental faculty, tan of flesh and white of whisker. This one's pretty self-explanatory; he walks around naked. Except, of course, for the track shoes. Thankfully, this usually occurs at night.

Recently spotted fully clothed, and in broad daylight. This was strike one.

The "House of Pain": a fairly normal looking house, on the corner of Freak Street and Neighborhood Shortcut. The house is brown. The shrubs are green. There's a nicely router-cut sign hanging from the porch that reads, "House of Pain."

I drove past the other day only to find the sign missing, and a moving van parked in the driveway. Uh-oh.

And finally, the H-Wing: a man with too much discretionary income has modified his Honda Civic Del Sol to look like an X-Wing fighter, complete with R2 unit and battle damage. License plate: OBISHWN.

The most disturbing development of all? The H-Wing has been totaled. "NOOOOOOOOOOO! That's not true! That's impossible!"

There is weeping in Westchester tonight.