Every day at 11:00 am at the corner of 38th Street and Brighton, Mr. Litwicky, wearing his wife-beater t-shirt and bermuda shorts, walks out of his house. He shuffles down his driveway in his worn house slippers and crosses Brighton to his mailbox. He picks the mail up, once again walks across the street and walks back up his driveway. He can be seen doing this faithfully every day, rain or shine, cold or hot. Many people have seen Mr. Litwicky doing this.
The strange thing is, the house where Mr. Litwicky lives was demolished about 6 months ago.
At the corner of 38th Street and Brighton is an empty lot. The old house with the old-fashioned bomb shelter was destroyed after Mr. Litwicky passed away. One day the house was there, the next it was gone. No one that I know of witnessed the demolition of the house. As a matter of fact, it was a while before anyone noticed it was gone.
This is the story that Bubba and I made up as we were passing the old lot this morning. We were both cracking up on our trip to the grocery store.
I love making up stories like this with Bubba. I started it, getting that My-Mom's-Crazy look from him as his brain tried to comprehend whether I was telling a true story or not. I get that look a lot from him.