The Neighbors

I watched her shuffle along, dragging some hideous, bloody thing behind. A gray and bloated hag, with blue lips, hollow eyes and a thick, slithering tongue. Then I realized that it was just the English neighbor; out to fetch her morning paper, as she chewed on a Cuban stogie. Behind her, her bent and crooked husband held her tuchus aloft, like the train of a bridal gown, perhaps to avoid the dew soaked ground. This has got to be true love, I thought, while I fought to keep my breakfast down.