It's like family, only weirder…

A Black Spot in the Road

When I was younger, sometime in my Jr. High School days, I got myself into situations of remarkable trouble. One particular spot in my past that haunts me to this day is in regards to my activities as a teenage marauder. My friends and I used to go out late and night and into the wee-hours of the morning to roam and joke and generally act-up. During one such event, we ventured to another friend’s house to recruit them. As was common, we would go to our friends’ windows and tap on them until they woke up or the house lights went on. As I peeked into this lit room, I discovered that it was not my friends that occupied it, but rather their cousin and his wife. I don’t recall what, exactly, was going on in the room at the time, but I knew that I need not be caught looking in the window. My other friends took a look, and one took a very long look indeed. I don’t know how it was that they came to know of our activities that night, but somehow they heard. Long story short, I got busted for being a Peeping-Tom, in which I felt very embarrassed and wrongfully accused. The guy we saw in the window came over to my house and talked to me outside to get my side of the story. I gave him the truth of it and he left. Later, after he had received potentially conflicting stories from my other friends, he returned to my house where he told my parents in addition the others’. So now I’m in trouble for lying to my parents about the conversation in the front yard *and* I’m in trouble for the Peeping-Tom business. Mortifying. Of course, it was the lie that was potentially more damning than anything else. My mom may have known that my story was correct – hard to say.

This morning, an old woman driving an old-lady car pulled up beside me as I walked the dog. She asked me to turn around in the road before I got to her bedroom window because she felt as though I was watching her in there when I walked Yang. Two things here; I didn’t recognize this lady and I don’t know where her bedroom window is. I know of which house she speaks because I take Yang to go to the bathroom in the same place everyday. Apparently, my presence at 5:00am in the morning caused her some anxiety. It struck me as odd, but also embarrassing again. It reminded me of the story as a teenager and I was hit hard by it. I played cool and just told her that I would not walk by her window again. Now I can never walk Yang down that street again. If she were ever to call the police about me, It would just be her word against mine. It’s a major inconvenience to walk Yang the other way down the street because there’s no “no-man’s-land” zones for her to do her stuff in. Amy is wondering if she would be allowed to walk Yang in the old lady’s direction. I told Amy that it’s going to ruin my old lady porn business something awful. My clients demand high quality voyeurism of old ladies in there night gowns!


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