I'm not sure, but I may have just been extremely helpful to a henchman. Really I should have the local news on so I can monitor it for any "Breaking News" segments. Hold on. Let me turn the television on....

Well, so much for that. I tried, but from where I'm sitting, there is a recliner which is evidentally blocking the beam from the remote to the receiver. I even leaned forward slightly and tried again, but it still didn't work. So, I'll just take that as a sign from God that I don't need to turn on the news. 

Let me backtrack a little before we get into the possible henchman scenario. We own a couple of rent houses. Both of them are in decent neighborhoods, but one of the houses has had some rather undesirable neighbors living next door for quite a while. Since we bought it, actually. If I had to describe these neighbors in as few words as possible, I would say crackheads. When we bought the house, we observed that the house next door - heretofore known as the crack house - seemed to be a beehive of activity. Whenever we showed up to do repairs on our house, a number of different cars, motorcycles and people would come and go from the crack house during the time we were at our house. After a very short time, it became apparent to us that the crack house did not have any electricity. This was in the summertime, which isn't really significant since summer around here lasts about ten months out of the year. But you know it had to be hot as hell over there. Evidentally, crack heads don't care about the sweltering heat. 

We have owned our rent house for about two years now. During that time, we have witnessed the steady decline of the condition of the crack house, which I understand is not at all unusual for a crack house. At one point, my husband had occasion to speak with the Main Crack Head who told him that his father owns the house and he works offshore. I found this curious since the Main Crack Head appears to be about fifty-five (at least) which would put his father at about seventy-five. I don't believe there are many seventy-five years old men working on offshore oil rigs. I guess it could happen, but the odds are slim. 

 Over the course of the last two years, traffic at the crack house decreased significantly, as did the number of occupants of the crack house. By the time the New Year rolled around this year, the Main Crack Head seemed to be the only occupant in the crack house. We didn't see him very often during the first few months of the year, but occasional glimpses of him proved he was still there. I don't know who was mowing the yard, but it never was overgrown. Not like you would expect. The house was deteriorating rapidly, but the yard was mowed regularly. It's a mystery.

About a month ago, we drove by our rent house and, lo and behold, the crack house was boarded up. Every door and window was adorned with fresh pieces of plywood. It was still boarded up today when my son and I went to our rent house to move some stuff in the garage. Now, we're getting to the henchman part, so bear with me. 

I was in the garage when I heard a motorcycle pull up outside. Then I heard someone talking to my son in the front yard. I walked out of the garage just in time to hear the tough-looking, well-muscled motorcycle rider say that he was looking for his brothers who used to live in the crack house. (Well, he didn't say crack house, but you get my drift.) He told us (by now, I had joined the conversation - curious as a cat) that he had "been out on the West Coast for years," but that he had hired a private investigator to find his brothers. And the PI told him his brothers were living in his father's house. Did we know what had become of the men who lived there? 

Always eager to help, and having little experience with henchmen, my son and I started spilling our guts, telling this guy everything we knew about Main Crack Head guy and the history of the crack house for the last two years. My son even directed him to the house of a guy he knew from high school who he knew used to hang out there. I told Mr. Henchman Muscle Guy that he should check with the city because they had to be the ones who boarded up the house. He didn't seem to hear me, so I waited for a break in the conversation and told him again. I guess he figured out then that he would have to say something about that to shut me up, so he asked where he would find the city offices. I gave him directions, which he listened to impatiently and then turned back to my son and said, "Okay, now you said this guy lives on what street?"

He got his directions again and thanked us (very polite for a henchman) and got on his motorcycle and drove off. My son and I stood there for a moment watching him drive away. Then my son turned to me and said, "Wow, I hope he wasn't some kind of hitman or collector or something for a drug dealer." DING! A light bulb went off over my head. I knew he didn't seem like a long-lost brother! No wonder he wasn't interested in going to the city offices! 

Of course, he could have actually been Main Crack Head guy's long-lost brother. His story could have been legit. But what the heck kind of blog entry would that make?