A good friend of mine took me to his brother-in-law’s house a while back and everything seemed normal until they all jumped up and ran to the window when one of the kids ran into the kitchen and yelled “she’s pulling into the driveway!”
I found myself alone at the table wondering who “she” was and decided to follow them into the living room. They were peering over one another and fighting for blood seats. The gated entrance to the driveway across the street was closing slowly and then a little blond chick darted from the passenger’s seat of a mercedes with a jacket over her head. She ran like her life depended on it.
When she was gone I was filled in on the ongoing drama of having Britney Spears as a neighbor. They were complaining but it sounded like the show had really pulled them in. I guess I missed a good one the day before, when he almost hit a dog she was chasing around the cul-de-sac. He stopped the car and jumped out to help her.
“Is this your dog?” he asked, frustrated.
“No,” she responded breathlessly, “is it your dog?”
