We've got a crazy neighbor. I type those words, and I realize I likely offend everyone with "crazy" relatives. Oh, well, good thing I don't have comments on very often, eh? [Can I soften the blow by pointing out that I have had crazy people in my life, too? No?]
So, yeah, Ed -- or Crazy Ed as I refer to him whenever I have the car windows rolled up as I drive by his house -- is definitely mentally ill and a likely alcoholic as well. He is well known in our town. If you have lived here longer than a year or two, you have likely heard of Crazy Ed.
He's the guy in the house worth about a million bucks who has at least nine cars in various disarray on his lot. He's the guy who installed a security light and placed it so it shines into another neighbor's house. He's the guy who threatens to shoot an injured deer with his shotgun if Animal Control doesn't come and put it out of its misery. He's the guy who faux paints tile and stone on the sidewalk in front of his house. He's the guy who points at you when you pass him while out and about around town. [The finger he is pointing varies in digit and degree of intensity depending on your relationship with him.] He's the guy who punished his teen-age son years ago for some misdeed by making the kid saw up and throw away an entire car, piece by piece. He's the guy who's been banned from Starbucks everywhere because of his behavior at one of their stores. He's the guy whose wife, no surprise, up and left him years and years and years ago because of these and countless other acts.
You know it's toward the end of the month around here because he's acts increasingly bizarre as his meds run out.
We get very little traffic around these here streets. Just we locals use the street we're on, really. And we all know Crazy Ed. So when a sofa bed made its way from the inside of his house to the faux stone sidewalk in front of his house, even I did a double-take. Sure, it said "free" on it. But we all know him. None of us, even the family with the twins heading off to college in the fall who will surely be in need of furnishings, would take something that had been in his house. I mean, come on, if it's not been outfitted with a tracking device by the paranoid guy, it has surely picked up too many bad vibes from him to ever make a house guest comfortable. [Well, hey, there's a market: the folks who don't want house guests to stay.]
I'll give the guy credit though. He tried. No takers. The couch now sits in the bed of his pick-up truck, one of two running vehicles in his stable of many. Perhaps he intends to attach seat belts onto them to be able to provide comfort to the owners of the voices he likely hears. Or maybe he genuinely intends to take it to Goodwill. I'm sure it's on his list, right after "clean out the car carcasses littering my property."