Without Malice

My native American friend Bobby Without Malice has been spending the last month with us, which is kind of nice, because since he moved in, he has been sleeping in a tee-pee in the back yard, kind of quaint. Except of course, in the traditional Native American way, or at least according to Bobby Without Malice, he also has to poop outside too, or “make in nature” as Bobby Without Malice calls it. While I am all for tradition, Bobby Without Malice is kind of competing with my dog, Beth Libitard and between the two of them, it’s no longer safe to walk in the backyard without some sort of knee high boot.

That’s not the sole problem though. Bobby Without Malice likes to get all philosophical at mealtime. Just yesterday we were having breakfast, hot coffee and luke warm blueberry pancakes and as I was chewing a glorious bike and pankcake, Bobby asked me if I had my affairs in order and I smiled and said, “as long as all my affairs don’t know about one another, then they are in order,” and smiled one of those knowing smiles and Bobby Without Malice looked at me quizzically. He picked up my cellphone and started dialing. “Who you calling?” I asked. “My brother in law, Sidney Who Answers Quizzically,” he said.

“Sid, it’s Bobby.”

The conversation continued for a few minutes, but I continued finishing my pancakes and wondering how my house is always the one that people feel it’s OK to come visit, set up temporary housing in the backyard and make wherever they want. How can that always be the case? I was going to confront Bobby Without Malice, but he is one of those guys who is so grounded and happy and just so peaceful that you find yourself ready to confront and he sits across from you and looks right into your soul with those puppy dog brown eyes and says something like, “bro” and you lose your train of thought and just want to go see a movie and buy him some chocolate Zeffers and have a great afternoon.

I guess what really has me more upset with Bobby Without Malice than the last few house guess s is this whole movement, this “make it nature” thing that really has run its course. I don’t get it, but then again, there is much I don’t really understand. In our house we have three full bathrooms and we actually only use one. The downstairs bathroom has a tub filled with herbs for the winter, so when you are in there it smells kind of glorious. Why anyone would not want to make in that bathroom is beyond me. It’s almost like “making” in the wild, only without the possibility of having an angry neighbor watching from their back porch.

A couple of days ago Bobby Without Malice and I were having tuna sandwiches for lunch and he asked me if I had ever been arrested or served time in jail, out of the blue he asked me such a personal question. I told him the truth and he leaned in close, so he and I were the only ones who could possibly hear one another, which was a silly move, since he and I were the only ones left in the house at the time, except for my lesbian dog, who is a known gossip, so maybe is was a smart move on his part. He began to ask if I had ever robbed a bank. I told him no, I had not. He asked if I had thought about it, I said yes, but only online banks. He sat back and smiled and said, “thank makes no sense, brah.”

“I ain’t your brah, bro.”

“I ain’t your bro, brah.”
“You planning to rob a bank Bobby?”

“I am and I need a driver, you up for that?”

“I don’t have a drivers license.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I don’t.”

“So you saying you could not drive our getaway car cause it would be breaking the law?”

“Yeah, cause what if we got away and were like 10 miles away and got pulled over, and the cop asked for my license and registration? Giant red flag, bro.”

“Not your bro, dip stick.”

“Still.”

And so it was. I could have been Bobby Without Malice’s get away driver.

Now, skip ahead about a week later. I had spent the day before, wearing gloves and boots up to my knee, picking up poo the size of my fist, throwing them over the fence, into the yard of the neighbor that I don’t like so much and listening to Pussy Riot on my ear buds. It took about 3 hours, between what my lesion dog had been leaving behind and what Bobby Without Malice has been creating over a 2 month stay. He had been gone for a week or so and I was prepping our backyard for winter.

Then, this morning, I was siting in our nook, reading the morning news on my iPad Air (that plug right there was paid for my the Apple Corporation) and I clicked on a link for a failed bank robbery attempt at a nearby bank. As I was forking some of the best blue berries cooked lovingly into gluten free pancakes. of course, I read how a small band of incompetent robbers had made it in and out of a local bank with over 100 thousand dollars, drove 7 miles in a small Fiat 500 car and were arrested when police pulled them over because the car did not have up to date state registration tags on the license plate. I took a sip of hot coffee and sort of smiled, without malice.

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