Some years ago, a couple doors down, there was a woman and her boyfriend or husband living there, no kids. They were in their late 50s, at least. She was supposedly a hairdresser, but her own hair looked like she was perpetually connected to live electricity, straight in all directions. Always a cigarette hanging from her lip, a voice that could break open a safe. Her beau was scrawny and not the head of household by a long shot. One day while outside, they both came outside, maybe to check something out. He was wearing nothing but a pair of leopard print briefs (the Speedo kind) and a monkey mask.

No one asked questions. No one needed to know. We refer to them still as Hair Lady and Monkey-Boy.

Just, bizarre.