A Look At Some People In My Town

      Knowing where I live is small town, U.S.A. and how quaint and quirky it is, it might make this a little easier to understand.  Everyplace has its kooks, but I think some of ours are just a little more koo-koo-kookier than others.  If you could only see some of these characters in action, then you could appreciate the true zaniness of it all.  They can even put lots of the big city weirdos to shame.  Now that you've already taken a quick tour of "My Town", you've just got to check out some of the locals.  Here, let me introduce you to some of them...

      We'll start out across the street with my neighbors.  I call them the Jizzers, a play on their real last name.  It's mother, Sonia; she's around 50-ish; and her 4 children, three girls and a boy; age range 30 - 18; all living together still as one big happy, nutty family.  The oldest daughter married, but kicked her husband out and moved back home.  The middle daughter goes to a nearby college and stays on campus, but comes home for all breaks and vacations.  I can assure you Samantha is the only one who has a fighting chance at making anything of herself out of that crew.  It's kind of a twist on The Munsters with her being Marilyn, except Sam looks like Herman.  Don't get me wrong, they're nice people and they try to help others even though they don't have much themselves.  Mama has raised that brood by herself struggling since they were toddlers.  They're simple people, not only in the way they live, but their mannerisms, too.  You just wonder what they're thinking sometimes...if they're even thinking at all...just staring off into space smiling.  At least they're happy.  And they're better at having around than a pack of German Sheppards.  They watch the neighborhood like a hawk and nothing; I mean not one damn thing; gets past them...and it's a busy neighborhood.

      From behind us, we hear an obnoxious little "beep, beep".  Oops, watch out, folks.  Wheelie's coming through.  Gotta make a buck.  I mentioned him before.  That's the kid I call "Wheelie"; he rides around the downtown area in his wheelchair selling pot.  By the looks of it, he's just come from home and is about to start his rounds for the day.  He's basically harmless aside from his "job", but, hey, I guess you have to supplement your government subsidy check any way you can.   Somebody's gotta pay for that knapsack to carry his stash in.

      Step aside, step aside.  Let the man pass.  (And make sure you don't let him touch you.  You'll know what I'm talking about as he passes.  Okay, everybody hold your breaths...Now!)  That's Frankenkent on his way to the dairy store to buy lottery scratch off tickets.  Talk about my daily habits.  You can almost tell the time of day by some of these characters.  I've always thought he had a place in Hollywood.  He's just so perfect looking...in some monster role; somewhat zombie-like.  They wouldn't have to do much in the way of make up.  He has a saunter that, well, looks like he's in pain from sitting on a bicycle seat way too long.  Long, stringy, thinning, dirty black and graying hair.  His smile kind of resembles a jack o' lantern that doesn't have all its teeth.  It looks like the same pair of filthy jeans everyday and I think he just rotates wearing dirty shirts.  He'd almost make Pig Pen from the Peanuts cartoon look like Mr. Clean.  You almost expect to look at him and see wavey lines going up and flies circling his head.  And the smell...the smell.  Pyoo-eee!  This is a good place for a Stick-Up!

      Heading into the business district now...don't look.  No!  Don't look over to your left; she'll think you're staring; even though you are.  That's Sister Mary Immaculate.  Yes, we have a Catholic church here in town.  There's a heavy Italian and Irish population here.  But she not affiliated with that church; or any church, for that fact.  She's a Rent-A-Nun.  It's just pretend, only she never stops pretending.  She has two personalities.  One is very devout, religious, holier-than-thou; the other is quite the opposite.  By day, she moves around town doing her errands and such dressed in her habit (serious, she wears the entire nun get-up; you never see her without it).  At night, she still wears her costume...until she gets down to business.  How do I put this?  She's a lady of the night and I don't mean she's making house calls for God to shut-ins.  Some people go for that kind of thing.  Whatever trips your trigger.  A girl's got to make a buck; especially since daddy retired as county sheriff.

      Hey, K!  Everybody, wave across the street.  It's safe on this one.  That's our downtown hair stylist...or glorified barber.  He's new school and doesn't like to called that.  I go to him when my best friend doesn't cut my hair.  He does a real crappy job, but the other two around the corner do even worse.  It's more laid back there...couches, recliners, TV...and he has tanning beds out back, too, for the other side of his business.  He's the kind of guy who isn't afraid to "scratch himself" even if there are women there.  Everyone knows how he is...and expects it.  And always, always, get your hair cut there in the morning.  You're an even bigger mess if you go after lunch.  He likes to close for an hour at noon and go across the street to pound as many cocktails as he can before he opens back up.  You can tell when he's having a slow day, too.  He keeps putting up his "Back In 15 Minutes" sign up for another quickie across the street until his "Closed" sign goes up at 3 instead of 5. 

      At the jewelry shop a couple doors down; that's where two-thirds of the "Fugly Sisters" work.  And we all know fugly is a comination of effin' and ugly.  Again, decent people and they can't help the way they look, but try to act a little more low key so you don't stick out so much and get yourself labled with the names you do. And they all have sports bellies...I swear, all their stomachs stick out and it looks like they have a basketball stuffed under their shirt.  The one is married to the store's owner; a family business he inherited from dad.  The other is her middle sister and the most whacked out one of them all.  If you're going in to make a quick purchase, don't let her wait on you or she'll try to keep you there over an hour showing you all the new arrivals...and modeling them for you.  I think it's her way of flirting...and it ain't working.

      Anybody want to take a break?  we can stop into "The Coffee Shop".  I would have taken you into ZuZu's Cafe...it's very large and roomie, tables and chair and couches, affluent and modern...but I wanted you to taste some of the local ware.  ZuZu's is more business people and Bonecracker U. students from the local chiropractic college.  Sit wherever you want; tables and chairs, booths and stools at the counter.  Yah, it kind of resembles a greasy spoon diner...because it is!  That's Mary Mary, the owner's sister.  (I swear, with this town's ethnic make up, I think one out of four girls here is named Mary.  You yell that out on the street and a dozen women turn around.)  She runs the place...into the ground.  Don't watch her when she cooks; you'll lose your appetite.  You know how heavy girls sweat, espeically when they're working over a hot grill cooking (as we hear the droplets sizzling as they drip to the hot surface).  If you're going to eat, your best bet is a donut or something she doesn't have to prepare. 

      See the guy over there...the one whose hair is the color of a Cream-sicle ice cream bar?  That's Screwy Louie #1.  (We used to have a Screwy Louie #2, but he moved away.  He was a little on the psychiatric patient side.  He'd sit at the counter with coffee and cigarette, back in the day when you could still smoke in restaurants, and go back and forth taking a drag from his cigarette, then a sip from his coffee...back and forth; non-stop; until they were gone.  Then he'd get a refill, light another cigarette and do it all again.  All the while he's doing this, he's rocking to and from the counter while talking and laughing away to himself.)  But Louie 1 is an even better show.  He intermingles with the other customers and people actually talk to him.  He's going on 70; and looks it; but tries not to act it.  His hair is snow white and I don't know what he uses to dye it, but the color never takes and it always looks rather pastel.  He's hold his hand up like that all the time; with his wrist brace on; to show it off for anybody whose never seen it before, which is no one.  He hurt it working at Mc Donalds a few years back, sued them and is milking disability because of it.  That's his racing bike chained up to the light pole out front.  He doesn't drive; was never smart enough to get his license, so he rides his bike everywhere.  He doesn't have anything else to spend his money on, so he buys color-coordinated, matching athletic shirts and shorts.  And his knee socks and sneakers usually go with his outfit.  Just close your eyes and listen to him talk.  The older he gets, the higher his voice goes and the more he sounds like a lady. 

      Oh shit.  Mary spotted me.  No, not the nun or the cook.  I told you everybody's named Mary around here...even that guy over there.  This is old Mary...mid-70's...dyes her hair so it's always jet black.  She was a baker at the local hospital for like 50 years.  And she can yap-yap-yap; you can take a nap and she'll still be talking when you wake up.  And if she asks me if I know her son, the cop, one more time.  I've only been friends with him for like 20 years.  Oh, I hate this part...the kissy face.  *Shudders*  Oh, you all thought that was funny?  Well, watch this.  Mary, I'd like you to meet some of my new friends.  They're just visiting.  Now, YOU can all get a kiss and listen to her while I enjoy my coffee in peace.  If she asks if I still have the necklace she gave me, tell her I do; I'm just not wearing it today...or any other day for that matter; gaudy-looking thing that it is.  If it was Avon calling; you shouldn't have answered the door.

      Well, we've got time to meet one more before we have to go.  Let's see.  Who will it be.  This is a tough one.  There's so many more.  You just don't know!  Ah yes, our town caped crusader as seen in the image insert picture.  Look...up the street.  It's...it's...it's...I don't know if it's a man or a woman.  Able to leap tall men in a single bound.  More powerful that a speeding tow truck.  Faster than a bull...in a farmer's field.  It's Super "It".  Okay, so "It" isn't originally from here...an import.  But the crime rate has dropped.  You'd think twice, too, about doing something illegal if you saw that running after you swinging a Chinese restaurant take out bucket.  Don't make me hit you with my rice! 

      That's just a small sampling of the people in the neighborhood.  I'd like to see Mister Rogers sing that stupid, little song of his here.  He'd be putting on his sweater and those sneakers, packing everything up and running from here.  Meow, meow...where are you meow, meow going?  You gotta love it.  We have our very own circus side show...and admission is free!  And you wonder why, between the people and the town itself, we're nothing more than a potty break on the way to somewhere else.