This week's report has been held over because:
#1 – speculating what Smuggler the Shady Neighbour may have gotten himself into is more interesting, and,
#2 – no one really wants to read about how adopting better running posture, decreasing stride length and increasing cadence has helped me run more comfortably, although it has and I'm very chuffed about it. I feel ready to justice to a marathon right now hur hur hur. No, not really, but close enough.
So, my neighbour from one door down is an object of curiosity for me. He keeps to himself, and I used to pretend he was a smuggler because he comes and goes at the oddest hours and his car windows are fully tinted (mum: you are so kaypoh, you know that?).
On the other hand, he has the coolest garden, which has a sort of shabby neglected chic vibe in which bird-of-paradise flowers thrive very well. Maybe I'm just a sucker for cinderblock structures and Buddha heads entwined in vines.
However, other people's business is not my business, until last weekend, that is. On Saturday evening, Smuggler parked his shady-looking car under his porch instead of outside on the drive as he usually does and the license plate had been covered up. It was just sheets of white paper stuck together with cellotape, but what morally-upright member of society does that anyway?
When a police car stopped near the house on Monday night, I was absolutely certain that they'd found the body and traced it back to Smuggler. Instead of kicking down his doors though, they questioned some other guy who'd apparently been sitting for too long in his car for some resident's comfort.
The car remained "inside" all weekend until yesterday. Mum reported that visual contact of Smuggler had been made and there was a moving truck outside his house. Clearly he's going to go underground for a while.
No comments:
Post a Comment