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I had a personal relationship with Beelzebub.

He worked construction, drank Bud Light, and drove an El Camino that leaked more oil than the Exxon Valdez.

He also lived right next door to me.

This is a true story...every word of it.

It became a tradition, at our end of the block anyway, to sit outside with the rest of the neighbors on Friday night, and have some coffee or tea, while we watched the police work out the latest domestic disturbance next door.

For the longest time it was a regularly scheduled weekly event.

There was also the time when (I'll call him "Ditz"...come to think of it, we all called him that) Ditz drove to the store in a drunken stupor to get more beer, and on his way home, sideswipped a car parked on the side of the street (our street).

The vehicle was truly hard to miss, the lights on the roof and the distinctive Florida Highway Patrol colors and emblems, made it quite noticeable to the rest of us. That plus the fact that it was always parked seven houses east of us because that's where Trooper Dave lived should have sparked some sort of intelligent response from Ditz.

Did it?

Noooooo...

His reaction was to abandon his vehicle (six doors away from his garage mind you) and flee on foot...with the beer.

He knocked on everyone of our doors, asking us to hide him for the night. No one did, so he spent the night hiding about a block away, in the middle of a clump of sea grapes.

One neighbor did see him leave about 1 AM, and come back with some more beer.

I sold the house and moved as soon as it was feasible to do so.