My Weirdest Neighbors

My weirdest neighbors were a perplexing obscurity to the natural mind. For the purposes of privacy, revealing their names would be sinister. Lets call the fifty-seven year old male Ricky, his forty-five year old sister Lucy, and their mom Clara. Clara is a retired schoolteacher; Ricky has a doctrine in education, and Lucy is a retired bartender. This family unit and there diverse personalities inhabited the same abode day after day. There bizarre ways became a spectacle of the neighborhood and that raised stern questions about our security.
Dan was a man of short statue with a long cascading black and gray beard that rested on his chest. Every morning before the sun or anyone came out, Dan would turn on and off his porch light, sticking only his head out the door, and slowly looking left and then right. With the light reflecting the thickest bifocals imaginable, he would carefully look at every step he made, as he power walked to his vehicle. Dan would startup his thunderous engine on his 1970 yellow Chrysler. Idling his shrieking cracking motor every minute for thirty minutes was excruciating. Hearing it roar reminded me of the Nascar racing track. After Dan got finish racing his engine, he would power walk to the left corner of his fence, look up in the sky and turn around in a circle for several minutes. He would then go to the right corner of his fence and repeat the same ritual. Finally, he would retrieve his newspaper from the mailbox, begin to rock back and forth while looking at the ground, and then go into his abode. Our neighborhood never needed an alarm clock with Dan shrieking yellow rooster.
Dan was not alone in his madness, his sister Lucy wasn’t too far behind. Lucy was a well-spoken tiny woman with long wavy brown hair and a lit cigarette always attached between her bony fingers. She was quite sociable when she was under the influence of an intoxicating brew. Occasionally, she would stagger over and say hello, with the breath of a thousand dragons. Her whole conversation would be about her brother Dan, “Dan has plastered newspapers all over the freaking walls, floor, and bathroom.” “Dan won’t let me use the bathroom, but he don’t know, I have a big blue bucket.” I would amuse her idiocy with a nod and smile as she rambled on about Dan. Lucy said, “that frick and frat, brother of mine is so darn crazy, I’m the only sane person in the family”. Lucy failed to realize, that she was the nuisance on her knees after midnight cutting the lawn with scissors. Snip, snip, the sound of steal barely rubbing together, but she’s the sane one.
I could go on and on, but I can’t tolerate reminding myself of their mad shenanigans. Sweet Clara is the only normal one in the house; her reactions toward them appear accepting. Dan and Lucy can only be truly loved and accepted by their mother. They are the weirdest neighbors I have ever encountered in my life.

Angela