Yesterday, I saw a fire on my neighbor's lawn. It was spreading a little bit.
10 at night. Nobody else around.
So I went to their house, knocked on the door.
The woman was freaked out, in her bathrobe and clutching it tight, in that 'please don't rape or rob me' desperate bunch-up with the hand. She even looked at me from a slight lean, not actually fully in the doorway but sort of leaning in, as if not showing her whole body
55 year old fugly lady. Gets her husband.
I very politely tell them there's a fire on their lawn, and just wanted to let them know - just in case they weren't aware that they might die in the middle of the night screaming 'I'm on fire, if only I'd been warned by someone else.'
They tell me that it's normal for their lawn to be on fire, nothing to worry about, they were burning trash, and they thank me for coming by.
The next day, today, my close neighbor berates me for prowling around the neighborhood late at night, terrifying women.
Apparently the whole neighborhood thinks I'm a prowler now.
Gossiping is a sport here. And I have no qualms about describing that withering husk of a woman 'fugly.'
...FUG-LY.
This started a whole argument between him and me, where I apologized and ended up cooking him chicken to smooth things over.
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