There I was. Saturday morning. Mowing the lawn because of my uptight wife. Nothing like the smell of fresh cut grass on a sunny morning.

As I admired the piled newspapers that stalked my driveway, I saw my neighbor Bob pull up in a red Ford F1-50 with blue trims. I never talked to Bob other than the yearly neighborhood barbeque hosted at his house. He seemed normal, but the guy was kind of odd. This guy stocked up on bacon and fireworks for one day of the year. And guess what, it was all "free". So naturally the whole city would migrate to his endless mansion.

He hopped out of his truck and stumbled to regain his balance. Bob was a fairly large man with blond hair and green eyes. His figure resembled a momma bear lounged over a Wal-Mart motorized shopping cart.

"Hey, you gonna pick up that trash?"

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"Just make sure it doesn't hop over to my side of the yard."

He went to the rear of his truck and pulled out two six-packs of beer. "Wanna drink? You look like you need it."

As much as I hated the guy, it seemed better than spending the rest of my morning watching Little Einsteins with screaming little devils.

"Sounds good."

"Come on in."

He opened the oak wood door and invited me into the living room.

"So what do you do, Bob?"

"Oh . . I . . uhh . . just do some janitorial services for a government facility. "

"Wow! So do you like, see all the politicians?"

"You sure do ask a lot of questions for a neighbor."

I struck a face of confusion.

"Sorry . . its just . . my job is really important and it stresses me out. I mess up once and who knows. . . the world could just end!"

"That's a stretch for a janitor, don't you think?," I sneered.

"Oh . . . funny man. Let me show you something."

He walked over to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Without a hesitation, he pulled a bacon-lever-contraption hidden between a package of hamburgers and hotdogs.

The fridge slowly dove into the ground, creating an opening behind it.

"Welcome to 'Merica!"

to be continued . . . .