A familiar anomaly in the neighborhood last night: a vacant house with a boarded up door drawing foot traffic from the East Hollywood YUNNies and Homeless folk. It seems the signs warning Do Not Enter and Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted weren’t having the intended effect to my Ironic beard wearing and toothless fellow neighborhood denizens. In fact, by 11am this morning I watched 15 people use a three knock code on the wooden slat door to be let in to do whatever it is they do in the house of some sort of repute.
Finally after what seemed like an eternity you know 5 minutes, a tout in a Dodgers shirt and hat came up to me from the Water store on the corner. After the usual street pleasantries and assurances that no, I wasn’t 5-0 or the G,
we got down to business.
“Are you here to see Mandy,” he asked.
“Is she fun,” I asked.
“You’ll love Mandy,” he said.
“She’s that good, huh”
“Mandy will make you feel great Holmes.”
“Will Mandy make me want to go be a force for good both here and abroad,” I asked.
He looked at me for a few moments not quite understanding my question. “Mandy’s not a broad Carnal.” With that he turned, mumbling in Spanish and walked back in to the Water store.
Note to self: I found the exterior to the Crack, er Cat, er Mandy House in my next project entitled “Lyft Driver.”
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