Every time I lose the Internet now, which, given local service, is fairly often, I assume one of the local tweakers has cut down the telephone line again. Aside from the inconvenience and desire to annihilate the aforementioned tweakers, I find my neighboring tweaker perversely entertaining. Not perverse in a sexual sense, at least on my end, but by secretly watching his bizarre actions, am I. . .well, sick? I wake up well before light and have coffee on the upstairs deck. The one-legged tweaker is always up as well. . .I imagine he hasn’t gone to bed yet. Three nights ago, he had his radio blaring and was taking an outdoor shower, doing a bit of Karaoke for the neighborhood. Loudly. His brother, who tends bar, gets home late, and would love to sleep at three in the morning, comes storming out of his door to vent on his tweaker sibling. The following morning, the tweaker, who has foregone his prosthetic leg and chosen his wheelchair, which he always rides backwards (seriously) and propels with a crutch. Since his yard is sand, he gets stuck constantly. The ensuing cussing wakes up his brother, and the usual argument ensues. This morning, the tweaker, again in his wheelchair and with a flashlight in one hand and a machete in the other is yelling at a cat to come down and take it like a man. The cat refuses, so the tweaker takes it out on the mesquite tree next to him. After ten minutes of whacking, he is surrounded by branches and can’t move his wheelchair. Pissed off when the kitty casually jumps down and scampers away, he starts ranting at the branches to get out of the way. Pissed off at being whacked to the ground, they refuse, stay right where they are. More yelling. As you might have guess, out comes the bemused brother. . .and, well, you can guess the rest. So, a bit of entertainment before I sit down to write. If you are familiar with my books, you probably think I am making this up. No, this is one of those cases where truth is weirder than fiction.