Crazy Convos, Part IV: The Locals!

I live in the most interesting neighborhood.

One that's undergoing gentrification. So, it's considered a pretty bad area but they are trying to spruce it up with nice houses and even nicer people.

I'm not sure it's working.

And that doesn't bother me. I like my little house. I lived downtown in a nearby hood some 16 years ago while I was in grad school, and I loved it. Always wanted to live back in the area instead of waaaay out in the burbs. This has been great, as my job is 5 miles away, and I only fill my gas tank up once every 3 weeks on average. So I'm good.

But the locals are interesting. Some crackheads. Some prostitutes. Some folks just trying to make it. And they are all interesting.

I don't turn my nose up at people. We were and are all a bad decision or two away from their condition. So I don't look down on them. I've gotten cussed by folks. I've gotten helpful advice from the same folks. They are people.

One of the most interesting is Mr. Thomas. He cuts my grass.

As you know, I bought a lawn mower back in May. Started cutting my own grass.

But this past weekend it was waaaay too hot to be out there fooling with it. So while I was driving down the street on Saturday, I saw him lumbering about with his lawn mower looking for yards to cut. I gave him a 20 dollar bill.

"Do my yard, Mr. Thomas. It's just too hot out here."

And I came back to a freshly cut yard.

I was relaxing in the house, and decided to go outside and check on him. He was next to the porch steps, making a sandwich.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to make me a sandwich, girl!"

A plastic bag of bread sat on the porch steps.




Ick. I don't like white bread. He seems to.

"What kinda sandwich you making?"

"Don't worry about it, girl!"

Hmm...

Not sure what he was eating, but he was enjoying it.



I got a little nosey. I saw that he was making a sandwich from a bowl of chicken noodle soup.



Of course I started tripping.

"Yuck! Ewwww! Mr. Thomas, how you gonna make a sandwich out of that! Yuck!!!!"
"Hush up, girl! It's good."

I continued to whine. He continued to eat.

I sat on the brick porch steps. Got a little bit more nosey.

And I saw something interesting in the sack of bread loaves.



He had the GOOD bread in there. My eyes lit up.

"Yo, you got that wheat bread. That whole wheat bread. That Sara Lee."
"Yeah," he said. "You want some of it?"

I was tempted. But I don't eat a lot of bread. Plus, I can't take food from a man barely making. I can't take anything from a man who lives in a shed behind Rat Cheese's house. (I still gotta go meet this infamous Rat Cheese. I want to know how he got that nickname.)

"Where you get it from?" I asked.
He pointed at a house across the street from me, and two doors down. "That lady over there. She get it free."

I'm looking at the house, and at him, wondering silently to myself if he stole it, or if they stole it. Everybody know I don't buy stolen stuff. People come around with watches and ceiling fans... all kinds of stuff!

Although I did buy something once that had questionable origins, some 3 or 4 years ago.From that doggone Snake.

And it still cracks me up, because I still have to hear about this from him. He's STILL hot about it. I just laugh at him.

He showed up at my house one night, ringing the doorbell hard. High as a kite!

"Who is it!" I hollered.
"Snake! Open the door, girl!"
I opened the door. I posted about this a few years ago. I will just let you read it.


That doggone SNAKE!! Snake came by my house on Saturday night wanting to sell me a big bag of cat food.



And it was that good cat food, the kind that Oscar-Tyrone eats, you know. I make it a rule not to buy anything from the locals, as it most likely belongs to someone else. This is easy when he's trying to sell off a watch, jewelry, TVs, plants and trees. I just yell "NO, SNAKE!"

But cat food?



I said no. I imagined him and his crew going somewhere and knocking off a vet shop or something, which is some complete craziness. But he said it was the wrong food for his cousin's kitten, blah, blah, blah, etc... Whatever he said, I believed him. I bought the 30 dollar bag of food for about 10 bucks in quarters.



He later told me where he got it from...

Let's just say... HE TRICKED ME!!! I'm not even going to tell you where he got it from.

Pissed me off because I broke my rule: don't buy nothing from the locals... HUMPH!!

Humph. I am requiring that he write a poem on that subject.

Oscar Tyrone, didn't seem to mind. He watched me as I drug the food back into the house.



He yawned and went back to sleep.



Ha Ha! Funny! I still laugh about that to this day, as Snake gives me the hard side-eye.

If Oscar wasn't worried about it that day, then I wasn't either. He ate well for about four months.

That was the last thing I bought from a local. And I bought it because Snake was NOT leaving my porch. I went in the house and found those quarters in my change cup.

No I didn't want Mr. Thomas' bread this weekend...

Although that Sara Lee 100% whole wheat loaf was tempting.

Now if Mr. Thomas brings by a bag of cat food... well that's another story.

LOL