Mr. B's on the sofa, playing some Fable 2, winning Lucien Dollas at the Westcliff Shooting Range. I'm on the loveseat, feet up on the coffee table with Alika keeping my lat warm, watching and keeping count of points for him.
It's a few minutes shy of midnight and the front door opens — not violently, but very abruptly and unexpectedly — and in walks a stranger with a couple of large backpacks over his shoulders and a very excellent toque upon his head.
Mr. B. and I look to the intruder, and he looks at us. After a strange silence he says to us, "uh... I guess my Grandma doesn't live here anymore...."
Before us we have the youngest grandchild of our landlady. He happens to have the same name is Mr. B., who offered him a beer and a seat. Now they are sitting on the couch chatting about their respective world travels.
Well, Mr. B. is talking about his time in Mexico; Intruder B is discussing his recent excursion to eastern Europe.
Who says you need to leave your home to make friends?
6 comments:
Bevin here. Nice to see you back! That's a really neat, random visit you guys had. Glad your "intruder" was a good guy!
No kidding! It could have been a much less pleasant situation. As far as home invasions go, this was pretty sweet.
That's...heh heh. Must have been quite the shock for him too!
I too am glad that your uninvited guest was a nice one.
Glad to have you back and posting! Now if only I could get myself motivated to turn on my computer more than once a week...
Well, now I need to find things to continue posting about.
And then no messages for two months.
... He killed you, didn't he?
No. I lost my blogging wind again is all. And then, once inspiration struck, my laptop decided it wasn't talking to the internet anymore.
Feel free to come by and mediate their dispute, though. I can't do it myself.
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