Carl called yet again. Carl calls me throughout the week, every week. Someone should take that man's telephone. He says "Hail." He says that then silence. With Carl a pattern has developed.

I purchased a home in Carl's neighborhood a year ago. All the neighbors know one another and Carl thinks this communion, this fate nearness is consent to take over telephone lines like he's the most diminutive Genghis Khan in history.

Quickly I asking why he had called. Carl tells me to come over to his house so he could show me something. Ok, Carl, after I'd recounted a litany of reasons not to. Carl expertly showed them to be mere subterfuge. Carl is good at this. If Carl is good at anything, that thing is unfurling

Carl's accommodations are about as noisy as the man himself. Consecrating the start of spring he's set-up a large, inflatable bunny. Swaying, it welcomes me. The best neighbor ever swings open the door before I can ring the doorbell. He has an ear-to-ear smirk. He takes me by my arm towards the front yard. Carl looks up. I look up. My mind is the saddest canvas and Carl is the happy painter. This should be interesting.

I discover Carl asked me over so he could tell me about his gutter covers, which he says keeps debris out of his gutters. And Carl, finally, was actually onto something.

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