A fly has been hanging around in my car for the last two days and HE WON'T LEAVE! He zzz's me goodbye in the evening and zzz's me good morning when I return. I take hand swipes at him fruitlessly, leaving the windows open in vain hope.
He looks hungry.
My neighbors across the street appear to be having marital problems. The husband, a bearded thin fellow with a deep tan from many hours working in the sun, his work van covered in Nascar stickers, has been outside the last couple of nights cursing and yelling. He sounds like my previous downstairs neighbor, The Woman Who Screams Fuck™, but being a man there's more potential for violence so it isn't as funny. "Cock sucker mother fucker!!" he yells, rather poetically. I peep, voyeuristically, through my bedroom window, the lights off, waiting to see if the wife, also deeply tanned, thin, and tattooed, will emerge during these tirades.
Of course, I should have seen it coming weeks ago. The wife has been drinking a lot more. Almost every time I see her, now, she's three sheets to the wind. She always makes the same comment with good natured, drunken, jollity: "My dogs never bark at you. Why is that? They're used to you." I smile and nod and walk quickly to my apartment, assuming a bad, tobacco spitting, tooth grinding rage from the husband and not desiring a beat down.
Their daughter is already in with the wrong crowd of teenagers down the street. One wonders what this forebodes for her. Probably a reality series followed by a book deal.
So, what have we learned today? I am telling a fly to buzz off, a husband is telling a wife to buzz off, and pretty soon all of you will be telling me to buzz off.