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We all need the clowns to make us smile.

We use to live next door to a pill popping Nazi sympathizer who belted Journey songs over a hot tub motor during the wee hours. A hurricane came through town enabling his vision of an addition on his house to include said hot tub, compliments of insurance monies. Other additions included an emaciated barking dog and a motorcycle parked just outside our bedroom window. About a half hour after his 4:30a dip in the hot tub and vocalizing session with Steve Perry, he would rev the motorcycle's engine endlessly before heading off to work as a mechanic of sorts. Coincidentally, we kept a newborn baby's cradle on the inside of said window. This newborn's Poppy remembers well her serenading neighbor and his chop shop from Poppy's detecting days on the local police force.

His woman was mean to wide eyed little boys. Demons lived in her tree, she said. Wide eyed little boys were not a welcome addition. I'm still slightly irritated at Lovin' Man for convincing me not to release a demon of my own upon her.

They moved away citing dissatisfaction with the colorfulness of our neighborhood. Dangerous elements and all.

I sure miss his rendition of Faithfully but we've not heard from those demons since.


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