That's Just Mack

I heard the metal clink of the gate and glanced out the front window. It was 8:10 AM. It was Red with a white plastic kitty litter jug. His wife Darlene cackled as he entered into the alley. What just happened? Marley who lives down the street in the former funeral home told me Red goes by his house every morning at 8:AM to harass him swinging a golf club and shouting up to the third floor. One day Red wrote graffiti in white on the red brick wall: two drunks live here with an arrow pointing to the door. I gave Marley Chief's number to carry for safety. Marley is severely disabled due to a childhood illness. He's a talented musician and artist. Red is going after him because he needs a target for his rage. He has P.T.S.D. and turns every thing into a war zone. This isn't the first P.T.S.D. Vietnam vet neighbor I've had. Years ago in 1978, I lived in an attic apartment on Forest Street in Providence. Every night the guy across the street would come out with his two big black dogs. He let them loose in the dark and just screamed at them if they wandered more than a few feet away. The yelling and screaming would go on for about 30 minutes. The college kid neighbors told me, "That's just Mack, he does that every night. He's a Vietnam vet."