"What the frick is this world coming to?"

Alls I know is that I was sitting on my porch, enjoying the High Life with a gal pal, when Old Man Mulligan came over to discuss how he could remove even more branches from the tree without smashing the windows of this gray car right here. First he calls my landlord, Sue, telling her he's "with that red-haired Irish girl" and telling her he needs a rope. While we drink, Mulligan leans on the porch steady proving that if you're wearing overalls, you're having a good time. Spybar car, the car with the personalized 'Spy Bar' license plate, pulls up. And a hearty Mulligan hello to Johnny Spybar, the Number 1 bartender in Chicago! Mulligan tells us that Johnny has Spy Bar tattooed on his neck and he can get us dates with him; gal pal is already dating a bartender, and I keep trying, but nothing is clicking, and Johnny Spybar was wearing sweatpants.

Sue arrives with the rope. Mulligan walks back across Kimball with his white goatee and mini machete on a pole, perpetrating like Moses. Rope goes on branch, I pull on rope, Mulligan gets to sawing, and timber: giant full branch narrowly misses the gray car due to my rope maneuvers and quick thinking. I have to hop on my bike to pick up the last $50 I owe Sue for rent; in my absence, Super Pretty Boy arrives and helps clear the brush. Pizza arrives and my new neighbor comes home and at this point, something is wrong with the cooler, I keep finding it full of empty bottles instead of full, full, full. Alls I know is that Super Pretty Boy took off his shirt and shoes and chased a motorcycle down Kimball; locked out at 1:00 am, we forced New Neighbor out of bed, and he answered the buzzer in neon green patterned boxer shorts.

Trees fell, hearts were broken and mended anew, I was given a precious sentence, my neighbor should probably move; imagine your most gorgeous friend running after a motorcycle at midnight. My porch is fucking awesome.