I laughed today

Today I watched my mayor climb into a back hoe and start tearing down a flop house motel known both as The Den of Sin and The Relax Inn. The woman standing next to me said he looked like Dukakis in the tank. I thought he looked like Kevin Kline in “Dave.” (“I once caught a fish THIS big”).

He only tore a small hole in the wall before a bleary-eyed red-faced man told him to hop down (I’m guessing that guy saved a lot of us from catching a back hoe scoop across the noggin). Mr. Bleary-Eye took down the rest of the wall and we all went home.

I came back a few hours later (after watching a perfectly insane woman explain why she let a racist murderer stay in her house and throw food at her) and stood outside the Relax Inn. I had some time to kill an didn’t mind listening to the guy who came up and asked if I had a minute.

He looked really serious.

“What do you do if there’s this restaurant? And it has thse biscuits? And the people who work there know the place has ants and watches the ants–like 4000 of them–crawl all over the biscuit and then puts that biscuit out for people to eat?”

This guy is actually asking me this question.

“I mean these ants are everywhere. All over the biscuits.”

I watched my partner start shifting in his stance a little bit. He was tugging at his pant’s crotch.

I offer that maybe this is an issue for the Department of Health. The guy looks incredulous.

“Like 4000 of them. All on one biscuit.”

My partner is growing more and more uncomfortable. He’s really digging at his crotch. I had just taught him the word formication a few minutes before. [No, not FORNICATION. With a “m.” Look it up.]

“All over them and the managers know.”

I offer the Department of Health answer again and start wondering if this guy lets racist murderers throw food at him, too.

“My wife works there.”

That was it for me. I told him to have a good one and looked at my partner and asked if he was okay.

He tugged once more and looked sad.

“I think I have ants in my pants.”

Not a bad day.