tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-134507362011-12-14T19:02:37.533-08:00It's Ok, He's Dead Now!Gemininoreply@blogger.comBlogger41100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13450736.post-1143071740978143802006-03-22T15:54:00.000-08:002006-03-22T15:55:40.996-08:00Today, he just sat in his yard looking crazy eyed. What the heck is his deal?<div class="blogger-post-footer">Don't Worry, He's Dead Now.<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13450736-114307174097814380?l=virtualestory.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gemininoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13450736.post-1140806861831331792006-02-24T10:33:00.000-08:002006-02-24T10:49:58.596-08:00As I met each of my new neighbors, all of them were very warm and friendly. Not quite country folks, but certainly a good hearted bunch of down home people. The odd thing to me was that, without exception, each of them said, "Have you met the Stichlers'?". I would usually reply, "Yes, they seem nice..". "They're NOSEY!" was was always the reponse. Sometimes it was more like, "Nosey, Nosey, NOSEY!". I was puzzled. The nice looking Norman Rockwell like old couple couldn't be that insidious, could they? What about the long haired kids the other side of my house, no comments? None were needed I felt and I don't want to be a jerk and pre-judge. I have been wrong before. At a previous home this old man used to appear to be constantly watching my house as he faced the garage in a chair on a daily basis sitting directly across from my house. Later I found out he was just a little drunk and spaced out daily in that favorite spot of his, being retired, if figured he could do whatever he wanted. He was a nice man once you talked to him. Maybe the same will be true of Mr. Stichler and his wife, maybe they are just misunderstood. I had already planned to be positive about this. Stupid, Stupid Me..<div class="blogger-post-footer">Don't Worry, He's Dead Now.<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13450736-114080686183133179?l=virtualestory.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gemininoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13450736.post-1123515251529566412005-08-08T08:33:00.000-07:002005-08-08T08:34:11.533-07:00The folks on the east side were the perfect old Grandma and Grandpa types, I was<br />relieved to see that they were my neighbors. I began hearing strange stories as I met<br />my new neighbors, it was a friendly block, no trouble here.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Don't Worry, He's Dead Now.<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13450736-112351525152956641?l=virtualestory.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gemininoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13450736.post-1118031735082702762005-06-05T21:21:00.000-07:002005-06-05T21:22:15.086-07:00Smithville, Alabama. Mr. Stichler is a retiree who loves nothing more than enforcing the rules, especially<br />regarding the actions and behaviors of his neighbors. At a distance the elderly couple, yes, there is a Mrs. Stichler<br />too, appear almost like a Norman Rockwell come to life. In reality they are more like a Stephen King creation.<br /> The first conversations that I had with Stichler, my new neighbor, were mostly sane. He talked about the weather<br />or his car. Lawn care was also big in his life. Also, being a bit of a Spartan at heart, his house was nearly devoid of<br />any pictures or decorations. The yard was also mostly bare of trees, flowers or shrubs. There was only one car in the<br />driveway for both Stichler and wife to use.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Don't Worry, He's Dead Now.<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13450736-111803173508270276?l=virtualestory.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gemininoreply@blogger.com0