There's a local man by the name of Donald. Always has been Donald and always will be Donald.
Donald sits in his living room, each evening, in clear view of the large picture window. No curtains, no shade.
Next to him on the floor, clearly laid out and visible, are four cash registers and seventeen coiled garden hoses. He's not ashamed of any of it. Why would he be?
And Donald sits there, in the dusk, smoking store brand 100s, waiting for someone to be brave. He's waiting for a curious visitor wanting an explanation of his display. And when asked, Donald will reply that it's “certainly none of your business, thank you all the same.”
And for this, locally, Donald is considered a hero.
He'll be dead within 8 years.
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