Deadbeat neighbor: “Okay, I’ll bite:  why aren’t you wearing pants?” Me: “Why?  Because I’m protesting Sandy Berger’s perfidy, that’s why.”* Deadbeat neighbor: “Oh.  Heh heh.  Sandy Berger’s perfidy, gotcha.  Good one.” Me: “Thanks.” Deadbeat neighbor: Me: Deadbeat neighbor: Me: “…You have no idea who Sandy Berger is, do you?” Deadbeat neighbor: “Or what ‘perfidy’ means either, no.”

Deadbeat neighbor: “…All’s I’m saying is, they really do have better hair.” Me: “I told you, shut up about the hair.” Deadbeat neighbor: “Fine. Have it your way…” Me: Deadbeat neighbor: “…but it’s the truth…” Me: “Where’s my shovel? You didn’t steal my goddamn shovel again, did you, you sneaky bastard?”

Deadbeat neighbor: “You know what I like a lot…? Dirt.” Me: “Beg your pardon?” Deadbeat neighbor: “Yeah, for whatever reason I really like it. Don’t know if it’s the texture or the smell or what, but I do. Especially when I’m barefoot.” Me: “Did you say you liked dirt?” Deadbeat neighbor: “Dirt, yeah. Like earth. Which I realize is not everybody’s bag…” Me: “Yeah, I’m extraordinarily ambivalent about dirt myself.”

Deadbeat neighbor: “Happy 4th of July!” Me: “Same to you.” Deadbeat neighbor: “Yeah, I went out and bought some of that bunting this year. The red white and blue kind. I ran it along the fence out back.” Me: “Good for you. How you doing on macaroni salad?” Deadbeat neighbor: “Macaroni salad, shit, I knew I was forgetting something.” Me: “Well, there’s always next year.”

Deadbeat neighbor: “Can I ask you a question?” Me: “If you make it quick.” Deadbeat neighbor: “Why on earth did you spend half the afternoon smashing all those apples with a shovel?” Me: “Didn’t like their attitude. Simple as that.”

Deadbeat neighbor: “I got no problems with this economy.” Me: “No?” Deadbeat neighbor: “No. No idea what this Kerry fellow is yammering on about.” Me: “Well, good for you.” Deadbeat neighbor: “Yep. Seems those tax cuts really did the trick, eh?” Me: “That’s what they tell me, yeah. So wait…does this mean you’ll be buying your own newspapers from here on out?” Deadbeat neighbor: “Oh, well, I rather doubt that.

Deadbeat neighbor: “So, Happy Father’s Day, pal!” Me: “Thanks.” Deadbeat neighbor: “Get any nice gifts?” Me: “A mud cake. Covered in paste and bugs.” Deadbeat neighbor: “Yeah, I know. I helped the kid make it for you.” Me: “Bastard –“ Deadbeat neighbor: ” — Yup. The fire ants? My idea.”

Deadbeat neighbor: “So, is it true they cut that guy’s head off, the civilian?”* Me: “Yup.”* Deadbeat neighbor: “And then posted pictures of his body on the internet?” Me: “That’s what I hear, yeah.” Deadbeat neighbor: “Christ, I bet this opens up a real hornet’s nest here at home, you think?” Me: “Nope. Not unless the terrorists put a pair of women’s panties on his head before they sawed it

Deadbeat neighbor: “Got a joke for you.” Me: “Not interested.” Deadbeat neighbor: “Oh, c’mon! It’s a political riddle, you’ll like it.” Me: “Fine, make it quick.” Deadbeat neighbor: “Okay. So, why did former DC mayor Marion Barry cross the road…?” Me: “Heard that one already.” Deadbeat neighbor: “You’re sure? Me: “Positive.” Deadbeat neighbor: “Oh. Well, shit.”

Deadbeat neighbor: “So. Dutch, huh?” Me: “Yup. Gipper.” Deadbeat neighbor: “…Now there was a man, y’know…?” Me: “I know. …Hey, can I offer you a beer or something…?”