53rd and Worst.

“Is your name Bruce?”

“IS YOUR NAME BRUCE!?!,” screamed the kid wearing pajama pants in the middle of a sweltering day. Pajama pants and no shirt made him and his friend look like little pubescent Chippendale dancers in training. It’s tough to be scared of a kid, no matter how hard he’s flexing, when his clothes come straight out of the Nick & Nora collection.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Eyeing me up and down, “Do you know a Thomas here?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” turning away to leave.

“Whatever… Bruce.”

You know, maybe my brother, sister, aunt, cousin(s), friends, well-wishers, co-workers, boss, and girlfriend are all right. Perhaps after two burglaries I should vacate this neighborhood sooner rather than later.

[Postscript: And, two months later, I did!]

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