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(diaryland) January 06, 2006 - 3:50 p.m.

There is a topless man on the corner of our street. He is a permanent fixture. He wears jeans and a gut. He has grey, curly hair which he likes to have in a ponytail. For some reason, there is a constant stream of toddlers and animals crossing from the other side of the road towards him. There are several old-fashioned partially dismantled utility vehicles in his yard. In fact, his vehicular yard is quite famous and there was an article about it in the local newspaper about it being an eyesore. My grandma cut it out of the newspaper and gave it to me.

I feel that the bigger eyesore is the topless man. He always stares at me when I drive past, sort of like the way people in a town in a western movie look at a cowboy who has just appeared on the main road. He turns and watches as my car goes around the corner.

Last week, I had to drop into my house to grab something and I had my sister in the car. I couldn't see the topless man until it was too late. I thought my sister might get to miss out on seeing him. I could have turned a different corner into my street, but it looked like the coast was clear.

But, suddenly, he appeared from within the pile of toddlers and trucks to stare in his usual customary way. I feel like I have to have a shower every time.




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