NEWS FLASH! I caught my neighbor cheating on her husband!

I almost didn't put this in my blog, because it has nothing to do with me, but I am sure Doc will find a way to use it as "proof" that I am insane.

"Fran" and "Ollie" live next door to me. He is a consultant who travels 30 weeks a year or more; they have no kids and no pets, and she basically sits around doing nothing all day. She is fairly hot (early 30's, a little older than I like, but NIIICE melons), but he is a big fat slob. He's at least 300 pounds, balding, and always breathing heavy and sweating. Climbing a flight of stairs is a major ordeal for this guy.

The guy's a major prick too. On one exceedingly rare occasion last year, when he was home AND doing yardwork, he banged on my door and said, "Move your car, or I'm gonna run over it with my tractor!"

"Run over it?" I said, "Why not just EAT it? I've got some Salsa!" He he he.....

Every once in a while, Fran asks me to come over and fix her computer, or repair a leaky toilet; she'll throw me 20 bucks, or make me a nice dinner for my trouble. There's no possibility of us hooking up, in case that is what you are thinking. I'm just not feeling it with her, so to speak, but I probably wouldn't turn her down, either...

Lately, whenever I've been over there, her across-the-street neighbor, Jim, has been there, watching TV or hanging out. Jim is married, so I have no idea where he tells his wife he is going, but he's over there ALL the time. I hadn't seen any hard evidence (pardon the pun), but I was pretty sure from their body language that they were fucking. Once, she was climbing on a stool to get something off the top shelf, and he walked behind her, and her ass brushed right up against his chest. She didn't say anything, and neither did he. It was very nonchalant, like he was seeing that ass every day.

Yesterday was Fran and Ollie's annual Memorial Day cookout. Ollie was supposed to help, but of course he had to leave town at the last minute, so Fran called and begged me to help set up. No problem - I am a people person!

The party really got hopping after a couple of hours. There were about 30 people in her backyard.

Suddenly, something I ate got the better of me, and I had to shit - bad. I ran into the house, and the bathroom door was closed. So I knocked, and a young boy's voice said, "Just a minute!" I meandered around the kitchen for 5 minutes, staring at her toaster oven, microwave, and spice rack. Finally, I couldn't hold it anymore, so I decided to use the upstairs bathroom (running to my house was not as much of an option as you might think - the houses are very far apart).

Anyway, I got to the stairs, and Fran had put up one of those "baby gates" to block them. Go figure - no babies, but a baby gate?! WTF? I don't view myself as a guest: I am a close personal friend. So I hopped over the gate and ran upstairs.

And GUESS what I saw!

The master bedroom door was half open, and the lights were out, but I could make out Jim and Fran in there. She was giving him a hand job. Holy SHIT!!

They both looked up at me, and immediately starting scrambling frantically around. Jim turned his back and starting wrestling with his pants, apparently trying to put his bone away. "We were.... uh.... trying to find the lighter for the grill," Fran said.

"In Jim's pants?" I replied. Snicker, snicker.

I ran to the bathroom and did my business. When I came out, there was no one there, so I went back down to the party. Jim walked up and handed me a beer.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, friend," he said.

"Don't worry about it."

"I want you to know Bonnie [his wife] and I are in therapy. We are having some problems, but we are working on them."

"Look. This is none of my fucking business," I said. "As far as I am concerned, it didn't happen. I just had to take a shit."

Wonder how much Fran will pay me to fix her computer NOW!