Busy cultivating my new "look" which is a pixie-cum-Bozo-cum-walking-dead kinda schtick, I heard a cop knock at my door. I don't like an evil stop-by and this one sounded particularly offensive. There stood a large man holding three forms of identification. I recognized one as originating from Florida. Bad sign. I asked him to back on off the porch. But he declared he was actually local and a private investigator - but so private he couldn't tell me the nature of his visit exactly. Conducting "official business", he did want to know if I'd seen anything irregular or strange going on in the neighborhood maybe down the street (with pointing motion). "Yes, I live here." He wanted me to be more specific. "Just hang out for a little while," I said. I'm thinking, do your job, pitch a tent in the woods, pretend to be a yardman for a month, ride your bike down the street if you're so local. Did I know anyone who would like to talk to him? "About what - business, social, political, cultural?" No answer for that one. He went on to suggest that if I did think of anything I could call him. "Great, I said. I'll Google you in the meantime." He said ok, but don't be confused by the guy with the same name (but different middle initial) who shows up as a sex offender. GREAT!!! And just that moment, three Texans drove up to save the day as I knew they would. They always show up at the right time!
But it does make you wonder about potentially cultivating scarier looks than the one I'm sporting today - you know - as a defense to these types of "visitors". My friend NDB always said, "The key is to be crazier and scarier looking than the crazies."