En garde!

At one of the merger debates, one debater appeared so irate about the other guy making fun of the acronym COLAC, I thought for sure he was going to demand a duel. We don’t get anywhere near enough dueling around these parts. (You had to ask: Coalition Opposed to Lewiston-Auburn Consolidation.)

Cayer for Mayor

It rhymes! To the best of my recollection, this is the first time we’ve had a candidate name that rhymes with the position sought since 1992 when Randall S. Machovenor ran for . . . shoot, what office was he running for again?

Ball of fire

On College Street in Lewiston, police were called for a report of a guy swinging a rope with a flaming ball on the end of it. It didn’t amount to anything, but it reminded me of that time that kid let me help him whitewash a fence and all it cost me was a dead rat with a string to swing it on. Those were good times.

No comment

We have a new record! At some business-type event I have mostly blocked out of my mind, a gentleman commented for a solid nine minutes while explaining why he didn’t want to give me a comment for my story. The nine-minute no comment beats the former record offered by some fool who went on for seven-and-a-half minutes about why he wasn’t allowed to talk about the fire he had witnessed.

A gallon of milk from beyond

The road construction in front of Hannaford on Sabattus Street in Lewiston is funky. To get into or out of the Hannaford lot, you have to drive through a maze of cones that lead you into some strange and dark areas. I’m not saying I drove through a wormhole and into an alternate dimension over there, but I swear when I went into the store, it was called Shop ‘n Save.

Little boy lost

And speaking of grocery store weirdness, Shaw’s on East Avenue in Lewiston has moved its nighttime checkout lines waaaaay to the right of the store when they used to be located waaaay to the left. I went in for something manly the other night – lilac scented hair mousse, I think it was – and then stood helpless for about an hour in front of those now-dark checkout lines on the left until some nice adult came along and led me over to the cashiers in their new, scary location. My world has turned upside down. Hair smells great, though.

Scream queen

So, I was driving along Walnut Street in Lewiston the other day, as part of my ongoing study into the annoying behavior of pedestrians, when I heard the sounds of a woman screaming nearby. I more or less dismissed it – screams in downtown Lewiston aren’t exactly rare – but then decided I don’t want to be one of those guys who cynically dismisses things like blood chilling screams in the middle of the afternoon. So, heroically, I drove up and down Walnut Street until I found the source of the womanish screams. Turns out it was a 40-something-year-old bearded guy sitting on a rock, drinking a Monster Energy drink and just routinely screaming at nothing at all. I thought about asking him what all the shouting was about, but if those screams are his resting voice, I don’t think I want to know what he sounds like conversationally. Probably blow the eardrums right out of my head. Who needs it?

Scream queen II

By the way, the best scream I’ve heard since “Halloween”-era Jamie Lee Curtis came from a young lady occupying a spider’s web at Nightmare on the Ridge over at Wallingford’s Fruit House in Auburn. An absolutely terrifying, pants-wetting pitch. And that’s all I can say about that. Go over and hear for yourself. Bring extra undies.