001: allen

craig’s a nice guy, i guess. he keeps to himself mostly, quiet guy, but not mass shooter quiet. guy’s 35, nobody who’s 35 has the time or energy to kill a bunch of people unless they’re in the army. but yeah, craig. dunno what to say about him. never saw him with a gun or anything. he’s got a couple of pit bulls that he rescued from some gangbanger on castor st. oh, one time he came out in the morning to water his flowers and stuff and he was just in his boxers and socks. i was in the kitchen reading the paper and i look out and there he is, scratching his head like he’d never seen a hose before. i, i don’t think he has a girlfriend or anything. in fact i don’t think i’ve ever seen anyone else in his house. makes me wonder what’s in there. my aunt suzy is a hoarder, right, and she never lets anyone in her house because there’s no room, and probably because she’s embarrassed. but her house is full of the dumbest stuff. like twelve boxes of used coffee filters. she can’t throw ’em out! i told her, i said, “aunt suzy why do you want to keep these?” and she said you can do stuff with ’em. “like what?” i said and she told me to mind my own business. she keeps a padlock on her bathroom door. she’s worse than craig, i’d say. way worse. but i dunno, i’ve never seen inside his house. he may have a bunch of cats in there, i’d have no idea. but guns, bombs, stuff like that … i don’t know. the times i’ve seen him he didn’t look crazy or like he wanted to kill people. but you never know these days. i miss the good old days, when a communist was a communist, when a person would tell you to your face how much they hate women or black people or what have you. then at least you’d know. you know?

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