Talkin' Shit About A Pretty Sunset

As I mentioned before, a family of gypsies moved in a few doors down months ago. Their clan is led by a fortune-telling matriarch who finally visited me today.

My dogs start going nuts but no one was at the door. Confused, I walked to the window, and I saw a portly figure in a long black fur coat standing on the sidewalk leading up to my doorstep. It was the gypsy matriarch, standing there, hauntingly.

I opened the door and she says, "I'm fortune teller. You know?" I'm like, "Uhh ... yes?"

She'd come to my house to ask for three large nails. She specified that they had to be at least four inches long. I told her I had some small ones, and she was oddly pushy and annoyed and kept asking for more after each trip I made back with a handful. It was eerie.

I don't trust that gypsy matriarch because once my wife and I were driving home late at night and there was only one parking spot on the road and SHE WAS STANDING IN IT---just blocking us, saying she was holding it for her husband. We tried to back into her, but she didn't budge. That is seriously against DC parking etiquette, and I could hardly forgive my own sweet mother for such an offense. We ended up moving on becasue my wife was driving, but if I'd been at the wheel, I assure you, there'd have been some gypsy tears on my car that night.

My theory about the nails? Coffins, dudes, COFFINS.