Thursday, February 17, 2011

Maybe this will get me into heaven. Naw, probably not.

I've got a pretty good sized back yard with a 4 foot chain link dividing it in half for a couple of reasons: For security reasons and the front half I try to keep half-ass nice. I got some shit stored in the back like an old camper shell under the lemon tree, some scrap iron, shit like that.
This morning I was out picking a couple of lemons for cooking and I noticed the grass was trampled down around the front of the camper shell and there were some scuff marks just inside it. Hmmm, something to keep an eye on.
It's been raining like a motherfucker all night last night and all day today. I wasn't in the mood for work so I called in and had a lazy day. When I let CharlieGodammit out this afternoon he got all squirrelly, and when I went out to see what was up I noticed some movement towards the back of that camper shell. People movement, dammit.
I went back in grabbed my shorty, then went back out. "Let me see some palms, motherfucker."
I guess the shotgun convinced him that I wasn't in a mood to be fucked with. He rolled on his stomach and held his hands out. "My knife's in my bag and I mean no harm, mister. I'm just trying to dry out. Please."
Fuck. "How'd you get in the yard? And why mine? Talk."
"I was doing some yardwork for your neighbor 2 doors down a few days ago and I seen this camper through the fences. When it started storming I remembered it so I skinnied up the telephone pole and dropped into your yard. Man, the shelters are all full, my tent got cut up by the cops and I got no place to go. If you won't shoot me, I'll leave. But I'd appreciate the dry place to sleep tonight, mister."
Remind me to plant a cactus bed under that telephone pole...........
"If you let me sleep here til it clears, I'll work it off, I promise. I ain't no thief. You noticed you still got all this scrap metal?"
"Give me your ID so I can check if you're a sex offender. If you are, be gone when I come back because I'm sending a load of buckshot through that camper."
He gave it to me and I ran his name through the sex offenders' listing on line. Nothing. Fuck, I'm REALLY undecided about this. He doesn't look like a dope fiend (he has more teeth than I do), nothing is missing from my house, yard or garage and something about his actions tell me he's not kidding.
I walk back out, hand him his ID and tell him he's gonna owe me a days' labor this weekend.
As I'm walking back to my warm dry house, I look back.
"You ate lately? Your bedding dry?"
"I had a couple of your oranges earlier. Sucking on a lemon now. I haven't had meat in a couple of days now. And everything's soaked." He grinned at me. He knew he had me when I flipped the shorty over my shoulder.
I went in the garage and dug out a spare sleeping bag, a tarp, and a plastic garbage bag.
"Put your wet shit in the bag. Dinner will be in an hour. Hope you like Mexican."
"Man, I appreciate this. And I'd eat a cat turd if you warmed it up."
"Don't mention it. Any of mine or my neighbors' shit comes up missing they'll find the catfish feeding on your ass downriver in the spring. I suggest you guard it."
So I've spent the last couple of hours washing his fucking clothes and bedding, cooking a better meal than I had planned and scrounging up some extra shit I don't have any use for.
What really pissed me off was that I had already done my good deed for the week on Tuesday when I got a can of beans down from the top shelf for an old lady in the store.