6.14.06

Category: dribblings

when i see crazy margaret on her bike i always hum the wicked witch song from The Wizard of Oz. it always makes jimmy laugh.

yesterday, right as i got home from work, i mean, right as i open the jeep door there’s margaret all, “hey what’s wrong with the brown dog?”

now, i haven’t even seen margaret yet, right? i mean, i’m still putting things in my purse and locking the jeep door and i absently ask, “what brown dog?”

“your dog! the brown one! it’s got something on it’s back!”

“oh, the vet removed a cyst from her back. she’s fine.” i say as i’m cramming paintbrushes and CDs into the purse. then i turn and look at margaret and heeeeeee! she’s wearing this superman blue colored ten-gallon baseball hat (dante! hee!) and on the hat it reads: don’t let the halo fool you.

i actually need a camera phone.

no, what i really need is grant money to buy a GREAT video camera to make a documentary about my neighborhood starring Crazy Margaret, Lola, Hobo John, The Nature Boy, Voodoo Man (but i’m scared of him so someone else will have to tape and interview him), The Dreeble Twins, ALL the bitches at the Bird Sanctuary who walk during their lunchbreaks and talk on their cell phones THE WHOLE TIME, Sister Shirley and Her Amazing Purple Limosine, ex-con Dave, the 20 people who have stopped and asked me for a cigarette, and the old couple who live across the street who are curious enough to pump Crazy Margaret for information about me but not curious enough to walk across the street to meet me. i’ll call it Crazytown: Beyond Thunderdome.

who wants to get rich with me by exploiting my neighborhood?

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