friction.fiction.

So there I was having just ran a marathon of errands with a friend and was rushing home to meet up with another friend and the roomie for what promised to be a lovely evening, when only seconds having parked my Mini I was ambushed by, not kindly ole Wal Mart greeters, but none other than the over-zealous girl (interrupted) next door! She had her dog leash in one hand, her cell phone in the other,... a friend following, and still found the space and time to run around in my business. She was Indian giving like it was back in style and pleading for an old worn out piece of wall junk that I had recently used to decorate my dank pantry wall. I assured miss thing that I had no grief over returning this beloved wall junk but the return of said junk would need to be postponed to a time when I wasn't sprinting thru my only afternoon off from the j.o.b. Fast forward about four steps later I suddenly found myself in a supermarket sweep showdown as she stormed my castle to repossess what clearly wasn't even favorable to peddle at a Waxahachie Swap Meet supporting transgendered truck drivers globally. Doing the most! So, I'm caught in this tornado of my flying hot Starbucks, three cats diving for their lives, and a mangy dog belonging to this Blair Bitch Project, when I realize my front door is now ping ponging off her hoof, her sister's hoof, and her flying monkey's. I can't even bat an eye before realizing my arm is being pulled and, like a ninja with a black belt in Underwater Basket Weaving, she is on her Cryus Wrecking Ball as she remodeled everything that separated her from that $.99 bonanza made of plaster that she so desperately needed back in her life five seconds ago. Wow, I guess when one has a hankering for a yard sale show stopper (door stopper is more like it), you should open your home and life that needy soul until she has gotten her fix. How dare I make demands on the comings and goings of my own home.