This morning I burned my finger on the frying pan, so that’s when I knew it would be a bad day. Don’t get me wrong, I never imagined it would end up like this. To be fair though, I’ve never been one to “read the signs”.
Lester usually comes over around seven to drop off the paper. I started getting it delivered to his house because I got sick of the neighbor kids stealing it to roll up and smoke. I think the ink gets them high. Anyway, he was late today and didn’t show up until eight-thirty when I was making breakfast. That’s how I burned my finger. He came barging in and scared me enough to set my hand down on the pan.
“You’re late,” I told him while I was running my hand under the faucet, but he didn’t seem to care. He just went about pacing around my kitchen like he had to piss. I asked him if he needed to, but he said no, so I asked him what he did need, but he said nothing. That’s when I noticed he didn’t have the paper with him, so I asked him what that was about.
“I know about you,” he says to me, which was just about the dumbest thing I had ever heard ‘cause me and Lester have known about each other for a good twenty years now, and I told him so.
He says, “Not like that,” which is when I start getting a little annoyed because by now my eggs were more burned than my hand, and that alone would be enough to set me off.
“So like what then?” I ask, throwing the burned stuff away and getting ready to start the whole process over.
Lester stopped pacing so that he could look at me through those dumb watery eyes. It’s a wonder he can still see through them. Sometimes I think he’d be better off just cutting his losses. Maybe his hearing would improve like they say it does when your eyes quit. It might be worth it since he can’t hear worth a dime either.
Well, like I said, he wasn’t pacing anymore, but he was shaking pretty bad, and pointing at me like I was something straight off the nighttime program. So he says again that he knows about me, but I’m still playing dumb at this point because I like Lester. I’d got a fresh set of eggs in the pan which were sizzling away while we stood there staring at each other. I thought for a second that maybe he’d drop it, but then he goes and tells me that he saw them down in the basement a few weeks ago. I have to admit, despite my affections for Lester that made me kind of upset. It means he was spying, and that’s not very neighborly, now is it?
You see, I gave him every opportunity I could to come to his senses. Dumb old Lester wouldn’t have it though. He just had to keep pushing. It’s a shame. Really, it is. The neighbor kids are one thing. Nobody misses brats like that. Sure, the parents put on a pretty good show for a week or so, but after a while they realize they’re better off without them. Lester though… Well, like I said, it’s been a pretty bad day.