I was getting packages ready to mail out for Christmas when the doorbell rang.  A 40-ish year old man with his hoodie pulled up and a backpack was standing at my door.  Thankfully I didn’t have to open the door because we have a speakeasy.

What I wanted to say and what I actually said to this guy are two different things.  He needs to take his game elsewhere.  I guess no one told him this neighborhood is rated 9 out of 10 for Safety in Los Angeles. And with an elementary school in the area, his kind, are not tolerated here well.

40: “Can I come in and use your phone to call my mom?  I’m lost.”

ME:  Do I look stupid?  “No, I’m sorry. You should run up to the local gas station and they can help you.”

40:  “Oh, where’s that?”

ME:  Are you a serial killer or just looking for money?  “Well, just go to the market down the street – maybe they’ll let you use their phone.”

40:  “Do you know where (anonymous address) is?”

Me:  Do you realize I’m calling the police as soon as I get rid of you? “No, I’m sorry.”

40:  “Ok.  Which way is the market?”

Me:  Up your butt. “Head west.”

40:  “Which way is that?”

Me:  If you ever come back here again, it ain’t gonna be pretty. “To your right.”

It’s funny that I just wrote about being neighborly recently and then this guy shows up at my door.  Maybe he read my blog post and thought I’d invite him in for coffee.