At 1015AM, a white truck with loads of trash was about to dump on MY side of the road. I hurriedly peeped up and over our side fence and screamed out: `Don’t dump here`! The skinny man, who appeared Asian or whatever, drove straight ahead and made a U-turn and dumped logs of tree trunks on the opposite side of our road, near the yellow fire hydrant. I made a police alarm sound and wrote down his CA license plate # 5J5541(six) on a block of sticky note.
An old, pot-bellied, white guy rode by on his bicycle. He wore a white shirt, shorts and a hat with a T-shirt hanging out on the back. I screamed out to the spook that the guy was dumping stuff on the curb yonder. Then a younger, good-looking white chap was jogging in the opposite direction and I screamed the same to him. But of course, I was bored and my voice has always been too soft to be heard in normal conversation, let alone in screaming for no apparent reason. So don’t fret about my rants. None cares anyway.
Then a bigger truck with a black-colored dump was parked one block on MY road again but next to the house in front of us. Two Hispanic, Latino or whatever guys were waiting, alongside two orange colored cones. Earlier, I eyed two more dumps on MY road, next to a house of Mexicans living in a court behind us but near the railroad intersection.
At 1700PM and for the first time, Poi, the droopy-eyed, pot-bellied unmarried parishioner came by to drop off some ukoy (a circular-shaped, deep-fried tempura batter of dried shirmp) for Maw. We exchanged a few words of her not voting for Barack Obama and my telling her that I’m just listening to what goof he would say that time.
Of course as I sat in front of the televised programming and not hearing all to well what the Messiah is spewing over the background of Maw making all sorts of excited conversation, I was pissed and didn’t send her off or say goodbye. All Poi does is talk about her friends and bragging about being someone special.
I, of course, remember being at party and sitting at a table with Poi, Emmer and his wife, who flicked of Poi after I rolled my eyeballs at her, a signal that Poi was spewing nonsense about how her friends would bring her out to party on her birthday. I didn’t say good or whatever but queried if she would reciprocate to her friends. But the old fart was too droopy for my comfort.
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