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‘I Never Locked My Door’
Doctor Dread on Harm City Hospitality
© 2018 James LaFond
…It never, neve occurred to me to lock my door. When we were young growing up in the city, someone was always home. After I got my own place out in the county it never occurred to me.
Once, while I was engaged with the one woman, before that ended on a sour note, we were leaving the house and she said, “You forgot to lock it.”
She insisted and I’m like, “Look, Hon, I have all these keys on this ring. But other than the one that makes the Jeep go, I have no idea what they’re for.”
That just didn’t compute for her.
But then there was the new city situation, back when we met, when my Dad used to come by every day—at least once—lived just around the corner.
I’m sitting in the kitchen having a lousy breakfast—whatever shit I have to choke down to get the fuel I need to burn—and the door opens, someone comes in.
Now, I figure its Dad so don’t even look up from the paper. But he just stands there in the doorway. So I look up and its some guy, a stranger, a man, just standing there.
I look at him and he looks back with non-computing eyes, obviously not having a clue as to what was about to happen to him, so I said, “You should leave.”
But idiots never fail to fail when it comes to survivability computation, so I repeated, louder, “Dude, you should leave! Weapons, everywhere—guns, knives, machetes a fucking battle axe. Do yourself a favor and get the fuck out!”
Something I said there sunk in, he kind of nods and eases back out the door—even shuts the door behind him. That’s one of the things about living in the City, that you can’t live like a human being, that guys will just randomly walk down your street and try doors in broad daylight and walk right in to see what they can get.
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