Crashbox

The damnedest thing happened the other day: I was in line at Starr Market, buying my groceries on an average sunny weekday, when I noticed that the cashier in front of me was my former neighbor from back when I lived at The Pines. He was the unmarried, co-habiting, stay-at-home stoner who used to sit up all night in the carport outside my bedroom window with his girlfriend (or whatever you call her), screaming and swearing at her between swallows of Modelos and puffs on a Marb light, while she coldly and quietly repeated over and over: "You are the Devil. And I'm in Hell". I used to slam the window really hard to try and make a point after trying to sleep through this for hours on end...I should have gone out and said something menacing, but I never did. Anyway, there he was behind the counter, (finally got a job I guess) and he certainly recognized me; there was a moment of brief small talk. Then, looking and at AC's pregnant belly, he asked: "'that yours?"