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About fifteen years ago – when we were ten – it was just me and Tiffany.  It was mid-October, so again the acorns were plentiful, and aimed at her next-door neighbor, Bob.  Bob was a large man, barrel chested, hulking.  Unlike Lucas, he was real.  Sometimes we’d watch him, Bob, from her parents second story; he usually spent his days lumbering about, cursing, and pacing like a large dog in the yard beneath us, or doing the same above on his mother’s rooftop.  He liked to wear ribbed Gecko t-shirts, always with one of two pairs of Parachute pants – oversized and baggy, with elastic ankle cuffs, patterned in either neon lightning bolts, or bright red chilli peppers.  Most of the time, you could hear the guy before you could see him.  This was probably because of a favorite past time of his.  It involved a chainsaw. He used it to accompany his songs, and to hack up the dead bushes behind his mother’s house.