This man may have saved my life. See how happy he is about that?

SEPTEMBER 30, 2002

I hadn’t been standing at the damnably small sewer grate for long when I heard the side door of the house to which my mad dash lead me open and shut with a bang. A loud boom erupted from behind me and a voice drawled out, “Boah, that wuz a warnin’ shot. Ah reckon you best just stay put there ’til the cops show up.” He didn’t need to tell me twice!

“Turn yerself arount boah, and lessee yuh. No funny stuffs.” Again, he didn’t need to tell me twice! I turned around as slowly as I could while still moving at all—and the first thing I noticed was the gun. Damn thing was as big as a cannon! The second thing I noticed was that the man’s zipper was down and that he wasn’t wearing a shirt on his wrinkly overweight body. It wasn’t turning out to be my month.

“Shoo’ boah, iz you the one what’s blowin’ them firecrackers off all outside my house of a night?”

“Uh…n-no, sir—”

“Boah! Don’t need none of your smart-alecky smart-mouthed smartness! They got a place for folks as you in JAIL! You hear me? JAIL!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa…let’s settle down a bit, captain,” said the officer hurrying up the driveway from his cruiser. He looked a little bit like Joe Pesci, and I noticed he still flinched when the ’captain’ swivelled around towards him with his cannon.

“Sure, sure. Ain’t no one gittin’ unsettled out over here, ’cept maybe this PUNK. These kids ain’t got no respect, someone gotta put the fear a’ GOD in ’em. Punk’s prolly the one as digs up my garden, too…” he wandered off grumbling to himself about who knows what. I was just glad to see him go.

“Don’t mind the captain; he smells a bit, but he’s harmless,” Joe Pesci informed me. I didn’t think he looked all that harmless, but I guess you can never really tell. “So, kiddo, what’re you doing out here riling everyone up and getting in fistfights with the ground, huh?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I was chasing an evil gnome-sized thing that stole my hubcaps?” I was sure he wouldn’t, but the conviction in my voice and the avenging fire in my eyes must have rattled him, because he immediately took a step back and had a second look.

“We’ll, uh, get to that gnome in a minute. Why don’t you tell me who will help the Widow’s Son?”

“Umm…what about the widow? Is she still alive? Who the hell are we talking about?” I began to wonder if it was just me, or what. Hillbillies, delusional cops, who knew what was next? Aliens?

“You know what, kiddo, I think you maybe better just head on home and forget this ever happened. Capische?”

“Yeah, capische. I guess.” It was apparent that justice would not prevail today, so I trod my dejected way homeward.