The Wizard of Ahs

I am a stranger in a strange land. Born and raised in a major city, moved to a smaller one and then bought a house in an even smaller one. I love my house. It was dropped here just for me. Built somewhere between 1900 and 1930 it still has old knob and tube wiring, horizontal beadboard, coal burners, wood flooring, and an original mantelpiece replete with dentil molding. There are woods behind my house, too. I used to see a good bit of wildlife, but over time the animals have almost disappeared (along with my sanity) due to humans, coyotes, and overall loss of habitat.

The universe should know me better by now. I’m not good with subtle. I need a flashing neon sign with an arrow pointing, “This way to your better life.” It should know this because I’ve told it multiple times. Obviously the universe isn’t listening. Story of my life.

Along the way there may have been signs, but at the time of each incident I never fully understood.

Once in the middle of the night, I took my dogs outside for “last call” and as I was standing there I looked up the street and saw at least 5 wild rabbits in the middle of the road, illumined by the streetlights, arrow formation, pointing up the hill. I was certain they were waiting for a spaceship to carry them away, but looking back, maybe they were pointing the way out to me. Follow the dimly lit road.

There’s often a weird late night stench in the air; akin to a freshly opened Band-Aid® mixed with stale farts and burnt coffee beans.

Fairly early in my new residence I made friends with a young woman in the neighborhood. She had gotten the puffiest, peppiest puppy I’d ever seen. Soft and bouncy. She loved and pampered that puppy. One day she confided in me that she had a conundrum.

“I’m afraid to get him neutered. The lady on the corner told me not to because then his voice will be high and his bark won’t scare people.”

Ah hell no! I felt the world tilt a bit on its axis and needed to regain my footing. It was darn near impossible to breathe. To be honest, at that time, there were plenty of addicts and drug dealers in the neighborhood so a weak, girlish, soprano bark was a legitimate worry. I can tell you Mister Rogers would never have made it in this ‘hood. It’s just too much drama on top of too little brains.

A couple years later, this same woman was interviewing with the post office and messaged me wondering if I could lend her some “clean” urine for her interview. I could form no response to this query. I just didn’t have it in me, pun intended.

Then there was the time I loaned $10 to a kid in my neighborhood. I had paid him to mow my lawn the first couple years I lived here. I admired his industriousness. But then he started doing drugs and would show up high or forget to show up at all.

However, on this day years later, he needed to pay the guy who was driving him to work. This kid didn’t have a car or a high school diploma but what he did have was a girlfriend and a newborn baby, so I thought I could help him out even though I didn’t have much in the way of cash.

He said, “I’ll pay you back tomorrow,” which surprised me because I didn’t really think he’d pay me back at all. Turns out I was right. I was getting the hang of this place.

Several days passed and no money. But then I started thinking about that saying, “If you loan someone money and never see them again, it was probably worth it.”

Fast forward to me walking my dogs when all of a sudden this kid comes running down the street, yelling, shoes slapping the pavement, trying to catch up to me.

“Hey,” he said out of breath and hiking up his pants, which were always falling down even when he wore a belt.

“Sorry I never paid you back but I got hit in the head with a hammer.” For someone who never finished high school, I thought this explanation showed extreme creativity. “Oh my God, what happened?”

“Well my boss didn’t want to pay me, maybe he didn’t think I did a good job, but I said, “Hey man I’ve got a baby to take care of and I really need that money.” Then he hit me and I hit him back and then he pulled a hammer and hit me in the head. I called the police but they said I couldn’t press charges because I hit him back.”

To which I replied, “Well yeah, but not with a lethal weapon.”

I decided the cowardly boss had to be middle aged, with a receding hairline, beer gut and smack dab in the throes of what I like to call “man-o-pause.” Who else but a man-o-pausal maniac goes after a young kid with a hammer?

“Ah wow,” I said, “that guy has anger issues.”

“Yeah, but I’ll get your money in the next week or so.”

“Sure thing!”

The street theater in this town is stupendous as well. I was walking down the one street that constitutes Downtown, where on the side of a brick building a repainted ad of a woman tells me to “Have a Coke and a Smile.” Shut your pie hole with that fake cartoon smile, Glinda! I’ll do what I want.

Just then I witnessed a scene that would rival The Right Honorable Sir Laurence Olivier in its acting prowess. Two dark-skinned small men were harassing a doughy white one that wore exceedingly thick “Coke bottle” greasy-lensed glasses.

They were carrying giant lollipops, kicking, and yelling insults back and forth, oblivious to anything going on around them. One of the dark-skinned littles stole Doughy’s t-shirt and was holding it up in the air like a pit-stained trophy.

Doughy yells, “Give me back my shirt, you m-word!” There was an audible gasp from the crowd. Ah, hell no. Not the m-word! Munchkin. And as the two small men started to chase shirtless dough boy, he took a quick duck into the public library for safety.

While I did not witness the end of the scene, I clapped anyway. It was fantastic, mesmerizing. I turned to look behind me and said, “Wow, that beats anything you see on reality TV, am I right?”

I was not. The guy standing behind me began recalling the Thanksgiving his mother invited Jesus and Hitler over for turkey dinner. My, what a lively time that was! And just then, thank the gods, I remembered I had left my curling iron plugged in, so I quietly excused myself and ran all the way home. Pay no attention to the man close on your heels.

Wait. What? I’ve had the power to leave this place all along? Ah, son of a witch!