Bones

I have the coolest readers. When I got to the newsroom Tuesday there was a box waiting on my desk. Inside the box, carefully cushioned by both newspaper and bubble wrap, was the skull of a small animal. Included was a note, two Halloween music discs and a handful of Hershey’s chocolate kisses. Thank you, kind stranger. I’ll enjoy this dead animal part plenty over the Halloween season. Might even make a coffee cup out of it, or perhaps a cereal bowl.

I ain’t eating those kisses, though. I don’t know where those things have been.

Leave a key under the mat

Wow. After I wrote a babbling lament about the fact that I have no place to hang out, I got all sorts of invitations. One fellow invited me to come hang out with him in Utah. Ogden, to be specific. “I’ve got pool and ping-pong,” he wrote, “and you can drink all the 3.2 Utah beer you can handle, ‘cuz we also have two bathrooms.” Sounds too good to be true. What’s the catch? What do I have to do?

A group in Lisbon wrote: “WE COULD USE A GUY LIKE YOU” — like that, in all capital letters. I think that means they’re screaming, so it’s probably some S&M kind of thing.

A fellow in Winthrop offers both companionship and food. “You are invited to hang out at the woodpile on Middle Street in Winthrop if you are good at stacking fitted fire wood in neat piles. I’m a senior citizen and you can share the munchies we get from the food bank.” Again, what’s the catch?

And finally, someone named Scooter Jean invited me to hang out with a local paintball team as they were on their way to Boston to compete in the championship. I know how this works. Target practice, right?

The truth is out there

An astute and possibly glue-sniffing reader sent along a photo of a tractor-trailer hauling what appears to be a recovered UFO down Main Street in Auburn. I KNEW it! Lewiston is the new Roswell. And what timing. When the aliens come and demand to be taken to our leader, we can instruct them to get their green derrieres to a polling place and help decide who that leader will be. Democracy is not bound by time and space.

1,000 CCs of terror!

There’s a motorcycle parked on a lawn on Court Street in Auburn, just shy of Park Avenue, that’s covered in such a way that it looks like a cadaver wrapped in a body bag. I ride by it three times on an average day and yet I still scream every time.

Red Sox

This is where I was going to put down some thoughts on Boston’s successes in the ALCS. Now what the hell am I supposed to do with this space?

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