typing from a cell sorry for potato grammer

so somewhere on my street lives a nice man with some sort of mental condition, i used to think it was turetts but im fairly certain these days its skitzo. he only appears at night, like batman.

so its 12:20 am and he comes waltzing down the street as i gently lay my head in early slumber, and certainly not playing harvest moon on my 3ds because that would be irresponsible. i hear a shreak and a hollar, and sure enough hes at the end of the driveway having an argument with out kitchen trash bag put out for tomorrows collection.
"faggot!" he screams at it, "dirty whore!"
well it is trash, so hes not far off but i asure you there is no lumber in the confines of that bag.
he shouts more inaudible angry slurs at the sassy white bag, then decides this is no place for such a thing to be done. so, he picks up the bag and proceeds down the road with it in hand. he then seems conflicted at this action and starts wailing in dispair and paces backnand forth between the large stretch of sidewalk between my house and the next. he throws his arms to the air like seinfeld and finally after several minutes he decides, no this trash does not belong with the neighbor to the right. so he ventures back to our house, then surpasses it and drops it heavily on a tree lawn of neighbors to the left. he then hollars, "faggott!" to it again.

i know not what the trash bag replied but it provoked him into a battle of fisticuffs. now he was in a rage punching the bag but missing, swinging himself in a twirl from his momentum. after swinging wildly at the bag but the bag miraculously evading each blow (we buy glad bags with dex materia pre melded) he then becomes extremely apologetic to the bag. he slumps to the ground and begins to sob and wail in sheer greif.

the kitchen garbage is a patient and forgiving one, they were able to make amends. he picked it back up swung over his shoulder, and trodded back down the road singing the national anthem whilst simultaenously telling himself to shut up.


will i ever see out kitchen trash again? only time will tell.

Captain's log, 7 am the following morning:

White bag has been reunited with his black brethren on the curb from whence it came. However, it was not alone. Stolen into the night by it's lover, it had returned with two children. One identical but smaller than itself, and the other a green plastic recycling bin liberated of it's contents.

Whether it's captive took pity upon it and it's children and returned it home, or someone else, I do not know of this. If it is even the same white kitchen trash bag at all, I do not know of this. But it is there, and this is something we must all just accept as a reality.

haha, Kio.

Might I suggest no midnight walks in the near future. Certainly don't want to come between this fellow and his... lover?

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Please record video of this next time.

lol that was great narrative. A+++ would read again.

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Take my hand, brave adventurer. We face this dungeon together - with FRIENDSHIP!

Becareful plz!

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