Strange things are happening on the island of Tybee. Wait! That's an oxymoron, like the Savannah/Hilton Head International Airport! It's only strange when strange things are not happening on Tybee. Everything about the place is weird.
I was in the yard, smartly dressed in a pair of women's running shorts with the UGA logo on them trimming the weeds. It was a nice afternoon and I wanted to be outside. Goddess was on the beloved back deck, laying down as though bored out of her mind, watching me. Winston, the little gay dog, was beside him wearing his new sweater that says, "I miss my balls." Sarah was barefoot and baking in the kitchen.
It was a normal day at our house.
Nothing was out of the ordinary when I heard her screech, "Mike can I talk to you?"
I knew that voice. It was the Kitty Lady from next door.
Turning, I gasped. She was wearing blue jeans, a shirt, yellow clogs. She also had a flowery apron on.
Gone was the normal pink bath robe, the fuzzy blue bunny slippers and the matching blue towel wrapped around her head with cat hair circling around it like a halo, making her look like Marge Simpson on meth.
The hair was now frosted and straightened. She wore lipstick and either someone had punched her in both eyes or she had applied powder. Now she looked like Edith Bunker gone gay.
Before I could ask, "Who the hell are you and what have you done with the Kitty Lady?" she started talking about some zoning issue, construction on our street, a new neighbor who lied, parking problems and why we need to put matching fences up around our houses.
This was strange.
On top of that, there are three Kayaks and a yellow Paddle Board under under the carport. I have seen the Kitty Lady roll a Kayak down the street, wearing a black wet suit with her natural wild brown crazy hair flying everywhere. She looks like the Mitchelin Man gone over to the Dark Side when she kayaks.
But I know, there's no way in hell, she and those cats can Paddle Board!.
I turned my attention back to Gay Edith who was still talking obviously not needing to breath. I have no idea what she was saying.
"Well that's great," I said, knocking her own the shoulder and turning around. "I gotta go."
And I left her there.
But I'm going to keep an eye on this.
It's weird even by Tybee standards.
I haven't heard one single, "HERE KITTY, KITTY, KITTY!" screeched in days and I'm afraid something is wrong.
Horribly wrong.
