A Walk To Remember?

Prelude

October 1996: From the second...and I mean the SECOND we saw our house, we had company. We got to view the inside with a guest visitor, who would eventually become our neighbor Debbie.

We were very disgusted with the whole house hunting thing, we trusted no one anymore and at that point we would’ve taken a well equipt cardboard box that was in our price range. We weren’t too far off with this house, it is made of pressboard which is a cute name for little bits of wood that were left under a guys Craftsman bench and ripped up pieces of paper, pressurized together to make a place that can catch fire in a matter of seconds. Thank God for the cancer causing asbestos shingle that surrounds the outside of the house that would cost me 3/4 of a million dollars to dispose of in the event I ever wanted to side.

LIkely for this reason, this cardboard box was affordable and on a dead end street. Right away we declared our search over. Or was it?

As we pulled into the driveway I was distracted from the sight of our new home by the fact that our normally unflappable real estate agent Ray Valenti seemed to be a little nervous. Dying to get us off his books after the near 9 month fiasco I knew he was no longer disturbed by me calling him every morning to “rattle his cage” and to call him an obese human born to unwed parents. (Do the math)

At about 450 lbs on a good day, he knew he wasn’t hard to miss if someone he knew saw him, or tried to shoot him I suppose. As we got out of his car, his apparent fears were realized. Running from across the street armed with a couple of small kids came a trailer park looking lady shouting, “RAY, RAY, IS THAT YOU RAY?” As if he could be mistaken for someone else.

“Yes Debbie.” he replied disgustedly.

“ARE YOU SHOWING MY HOUSE RAY?” she shouted laughing.

“Yes Debbie.” he rolled his eyes again.

“I TOLD YOU I’M BUYING THAT HOUSE REMEMBER?”

“Yes Debbie, but you can’t get a loan, remember?”

As we toured the house Debbie stayed in the living room giving commentary, “YOU KNOW, I REALLY SHOULD FIND A WAY TO BUY THIS HOUSE.” Just what people who were trying to buy a house and had been screwed a few times in the process wanted to hear. As we finally got rid of her, I looked at Ray and said, “Well, I suppose we’ll lose out here too huh?”

“Why?” he replied.

“Well, you’re gonna sell this place to that trailer park lady.”

“Debbie?” he laughed, “She can’t buy this house or any other house. She doesn’t have a pot to piss in, I rented her that house across the street. I know her whole finances. Don’t let her get to you, that lady is kind of a local joke.”

If nothing else we now knew who to blame for having her across the street from us for 10 yrs.

Within a year we got to find out why our house was vacant and why it was so cheap. She was bringing down the property value. Soon we would get used to her exploits, like the day she came over to the house drunk in a clown suit and flashed me. Two years of therapy helped me get over that nightmare.

This year I was on the road for the annual Father’s Day Village People Parade, where some of her 6 or 7 of the kid’s father’s include a real life cop, construction worker and an Indian dude.

Part of the fun of Debbie is the fact that she liked to tie one on now and then. This is when she could be her most...entertaining?

July 4, 2004

I was outside preparing to take Sheepdog for a walk when all of the sudden drunk and stumbling across the street, Debbie nearly falls on her face splashing her drink all on the street.

“Whoa.” I shout out, “Be careful, don’t spill your drink.”

“Haha”, Debbie starts to gravely laugh with a wet cigarette in hand, “You got a light?”

“I don’t smoke.” I replied.

I went in the house and got Doodle’s lighter for her and lit her smoke hoping then she’d just go away. When I was done I strolled out to the road with Sheep and she followed me out there reeking of alcohol and started walking with us. I looked at her and she slurred, 'You mind if I go with you two?”

“Free country” I replied tersely. Sheep looked back at me like, “You’re really gonna let her come with us?”

I looked at her and said, “We go pretty fast, so if we lose you, oh well.”

We start going up the hill and fireworks are exploding all around us, Sheepdog is losing his mind and barking up a disgusted storm because he can’t stand them.

“Iggy, Iggy” (dog's real name) she slurred thru the whiskey, “What the hell’s the matter?”

“He hates you.” I replied for Sheep.

“Why?”

“He doesn’t want to feel left out.”

We were half way up the hill and she begins to complain about some aches and pain in her legs.

“Ahh don’t worry” I told her, “keep drinking, you won’t feel it.”

She was falling behind and yelling a bit, “Wait up, wait up.”

“Hey” I asked her, “Aren’t you supposed to be applying to be a teacher someplace?”

“Yeah” she replied, “Nobody wants me.”

“I have no idea why, are you going to the interviews like this?”

“LIke what?” she replied with a question.

“Never mind.”

As she stumbled up to the top of the hill she says to me, “I gotta get in shape like you. Can we go walking every night?”

Sheepdog looks at me like “If this happens, I resign.”

I replied, “Why don’t you go with that loser you’re going out with?”

“Who?” she asked

"That drunk fat guy you’re going out with who is always over your house. He looks like he could use a walk.”

She laughed and said, “I threw him out.” As she made a motion with the drink hand and the seemingly endless cup sloshed all over.

“Why?” I answered with my own question, “You two seemed like a perfect pair.”

“He raped me.” she said

“What?” I laughed.

“He raped me.”

“Why don’t I believe that?”

“What do you mean?”

“I just can’t imagine people lining up to rape you.”

“Well he did. In my sleep.”

“Ok.”

“I need a new boyfriend.” she stated.

“Any prospects?”

“No, not really.”

“Too bad.”

“I want my sister’s boyfriend, I’m gonna get him drunk and steal him.”

“Real drunk I hope.” I said not surprised but amused.

“Think it’ll work?” she asked.

“Well, I’d need at least a six to do you.” I answered.

“What’s that mean?”

“Well” I covered my tracks, “Your sister is pretty hot, I don’t think he’ll leave her.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” she said disgusted, “All my life I’ve been hearing about my sister.”

“Well stop drinking and maybe you might be pretty.”

“Think so?”

“Not really.”

She starts laughing. She says to me, “How do you do all this walking every night?”

“I’m just used to it.” I replied.

“I gotta get used to it too.”

“Yeah, well you can’t get hammered and exercise at the same time.”

“I’m gonna quit.”

“Drinking or walking?”

“Ha ha.”

By now everyone in the neighborhood is staring at me for walking with her. I am speeding up trying to get away from her because I was embarressed. We were heading down the homestretch coming back down the hill and she starts tripping over curbs falling toward people’s lawns.

“Don’t fall on anybody’s lawn, people don’t want you over their house.”

“Why not?” she laughed.

“Because I know how they feel.”

“Why don’t you like me?” she asked

“Its like walking every night, I’m just used to it.”

We got toward our houses and me and Sheep bolted home with him looking relieved to be getting rid of her.

“Thank you for taking me for a walk.” She said and extended her hand to shake it.

I knew there was a joke in that statement but I let it go. I shook her hand and went inside to wash. “You’re my friend.” she said from her lawn. Uh huh, that’s what scares me.

I went in the house and Doodle (my wife) was sitting there and said, “Took two dogs for a walk huh?” I’m glad she said what I was thinking. I went upstairs and she asked, “Where are you running off to?”

“I’m gonna hide in the bedroom for awhile. I get a feeling she is gonna change into the clown suit." We all know how that turned out.

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