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So, Davie has this pet cat. At least, that's what he claims. I've never seen it. It's like he owns the world's first invisible cat. I asked him about it, and he's like, "Oh, Mittens? Yeah, she's right here." Meanwhile, I'm looking around for any sign of a cat, and all I see is an empty leash swinging in the breeze. I'm starting to think Davie's cat is in the witness protection program or something. Maybe it's an undercover spy, gathering intel on the neighborhood dogs. Who knows? All I know is, if I ever get a package from Davie labeled "catnip," I'm calling the bomb squad.
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Davie takes lawn care to a whole new level. His grass is like a forbidden land that only he's allowed to enter. I tried stepping on his lawn once, and it was like I triggered a security alarm. He came rushing out, waving a rake like a medieval knight defending his castle. I asked him what fertilizer he uses, thinking I could get my lawn looking as good as his. He looked at me like I just asked for the nuclear launch codes. "That's classified information," he said. Dude, it's grass, not a state secret. I half-expect to see him out there at midnight, whispering motivational speeches to each blade.
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You guys ever have that neighbor who's like a human enigma? I've got this guy, Davie, living next door. I swear he's a mystery wrapped in an enigma, covered in a shroud of secrecy. It's like he's auditioning for the lead role in "The Phantom of the Suburbs." I tried saying hello once. I'm like, "Hey, Davie, how's it going?" He just stared at me, like I asked him to solve a complex math problem. And I'm standing there, thinking, "Is this dude for real, or did he just forget how to use words?"
I'm convinced Davie communicates in Morse code through mysterious midnight noises. Last night, I heard a series of knocks and thuds. I thought it was some paranormal activity. Turns out, he was just assembling Ikea furniture at 3 AM. Who does that? Davie does.
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Davie throws these parties that make library book readings sound like rock concerts. You'd think a party at his place would be a wild affair, but nope. It's like a gathering of monks during a vow of silence. I brought a kazoo once to spice things up, and I swear the neighbors called the cops. I asked Davie why the hush-hush atmosphere, and he's like, "We're having a silent disco." Silent disco? More like a silent disaster. I felt like I was in a scene from a Charlie Chaplin movie, trying to dance without making a sound. Next time, I'm bringing a boombox and starting a one-man dance riot.
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