I was walking our dog Mabel around the block this morning about 6:45 when I saw our neighbor in the distance. For the sake of anonymity I will simply call him what we always call him: The Wedge. He's the harmless crackpot that every neighborhood has. He lives in his childhood home, which is falling down around his ears. I have posted a link to the short film my son made about him, so you'll have a better idea, and also because it's a beautiful little movie. The Wedge is in his sixties, I think, and always looks as though he has been sleeping underneath his truck, whose cabin and bed are always filled with junk. His hair is long and stringy. He has a ratty beard, and he's missing numerous teeth, and his clothes are dirty and full of holes. The word around the 'hood is he used to be an engineer, but he has narcolepsy and that he takes some kind of uppers to keep from falling asleep. So the end result is that he wants to talk to whoever walks by, about anything, and he won't stop talking, so you just have to keep walking. And he stammers. So this morning he saw Mabel and me. Mabel, usually extremely friendly to EVERYONE, sniffed him and backed off as though he was not to be trusted. He is so funky even my dog thinks he stinks. The Wedge laughed and said, "Oh, s-she sm-sm-smells me! I must smell like...I must smell like...the C word!" I said, "What?" The Wedge said, "We-well, you-you know, the C WORD! The word that-that-that m-m-must not be named!"