update:so when n first saw the shoes under the truck (she hadn't mistaken them for a skunk), she thought i had run over someone the night before.
that is one of the only possibilities i can cross off the list.
here's the big news, though: now the police are involved. i went out to bag the evidence, and when i was picking up the shorts with a stick, i noticed they were heavy. the fruit of the loom underwear were also a little heavy, but that was due to moistness. the shorts were also moist. had the guy jumped in my pool and then disrobed? no. only the bottom of the shorts and underwear were wet. my guess is urine, but i didn't investigate too thoroughly.
i checked the shorts' pockets and found a pack of cheyenne cigarettes, a lighter, and some change in one pocket. not wet. in the other pocket, i found a wallet. it contained about 150 dollars, many pay check stubs from turf services, and a drivers license. weird became weirder.
i called the police because of the wallet, saying "i have to report something weird." the cop who came agreed it was strange and looked forward to hearing how the guy would explain it. what would cause a guy to leave his clothes, wallet, and last three cigarettes in my driveway? what kind of night could that be?
i explained that the shorts and underwear were moist. "maybe he peed his pants so he left them," i offered.
"i wouldn't leave my shorts if i just pissed myself," the cop said. "maybe if i shit myself, but not just pissing." i nodded.
i interviewed the neighbors who said they saw a shoeless guy walking around about 11:30. he was wearing shorts or boxer shorts or something. but no shoes. maybe he left stuff in my driveway in two shifts--first the shoes, then his shorts.
hopefully, the mystery will soon be solved. the cop promised to call me when he found out something. i sit anxiously.
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5 comments:
I have nothing helpful to add, but the person who left those clothes is probably someone with limited mobility and flexibility (i.e. a lumbering fatty), judging by the state of the (velcro) shoes... my dad wears shoes like that.
excellent point. i thought velcro was reserved for the very young and very old as well. you can add cheap or poor to your profile. they are an off brand of velcro shoe (is there any other?), and the cheapest smokes available.
Larry, the lawn guy, “coulda gone pro...” least that’s what he blathers into the empty space around him after swallowing his first colt 45 after a hard day of looking busy for his stepdad Roy’s second cousin Ray who hired him on account he owes Roy one. Life in Roy’s basement was pretty sweet up until night before last when Roy caught him pissing in the sump. Roy kicked larry out on his lumpy ass.
Things being as they may, Larry needed a new place to lay his head after the long days of shuffling around with the hedge clippers & drinking his colts spiked with what ever ninety nine cent sampler whiskey caught his eye on the impulse rack at the Liquor Emporium. Lucky for Larry, Ray was still beholden to Roy, pissing on the sump pump or no. Turns out it wasn’t much of a problem to find a new place to buy his booze or to lay his head. Turns out that folks who afford a lawn guy usually have a neighbor who don’t, or at least one who let the hedge grow wild as to keep undesireable neighbors at outta sight if not outta mind. It was usually close to dusk when he turned in his clippers and held out his hand for Ray’s blood money. Nights were pretty routine after that. If he was lucky there would be a sweet Mexican girl selling tamales he would sweet talk out of a hard luck handout along the amble, or at least some convienence store with an ample supply of hot dogs rolling on a burner and unobservant employees not giving a shit what the lumpy guy in the back was doing with his hands shoved in his mouth.
Larry thought life was good when Ray had two days work in the Ugly neighborhood. He found a low line of trees close to the next days work and there was even pool he figured he’d use to wash off the itch that threatened the romance of sleeping under the stars. The first night in the ugly hedge row was peaceful after he gave up on bathing when he got hung up on the fence and bloodied his nose. He was proud of himself when he was able to locate the a recycle bin for his fortified fourty ouncer. The next night was a bit of a disappointment. It could be that Larry’s prostate was begging to shout, or maybe it was his kidney’s but the need to piss long an hard into oblivion was becoming somewhat of an obsession. The need to hear the his stream of humanity with some venue that would dilute this powerful surge of waste was enough drive him at least twelve feet for a piss in the glistening pool at the back of the lot. But, low it was not meant to be. The idea of his fluids in a beautiful arch into cool blue lighted waters evaporated when his pant leg snagged the top of the iron fence post and left him dangling and pissing himself before he slipped out of the wet mess of his pants and gray fruit of some god forsaken loom and into a bare assed heap next to trash bin. But all was not lost for Larry, he was a lucky fella, the bag he fell on was soft, like discarded clothing and he found solace in a pair of rubber ducky boxers swimming in a sea of little pink and red hearts. Cousin Roy wouldn’t ask questions when he showed up the next morning. He would simply sigh hand over the clippers and walk away.
my god, lu. i only wish the real story was half as interesting. since it isn't, i'll substitute parts of your version in my memory. future generations won't know the difference. thanks.
Kudos for this great posting
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