Cocksure

I've lived in a few shady neighborhoods. As a result, it has been more common for me to see used condoms on the sidewalk than a beautiful garden in a neighbor's yard. The sound of police and ambulance sirens are far more familiar to me than birds chirping. Shopping carriages, for instance, are more useful to my neighbors than lawn mowers. After all, the latter can't be used to haul loads of empty beer and soda cans.

Betty's "buggy" (southern colloquialism for shopping carriage) was parked next to my apartment building, away from the cars that aligned our sprawling street. It was her lifeline. In the buggy were bags of empty soda cans Betty redeemed on a regular basis since the son she lived with stole her welfare check that came in once a month (re: Welfare Check). Aside from collecting cans in the neighborhood, Betty (a native of the countryside in Louisiana) had nothing else to do but mind the business of everybody else on our street.

Betty's eyes and ears were always open. She was my source of information for all that was going on even though I never asked for a report. When I moved to the neighborhood, a manly-looking woman greeted me who lived directly across the street. She had rough looking hands and wore a ton of make-up. I saw her regularly around the neighborhood until she suddenly disappeared. Awhile later, Betty told me that the woman (who was formerly a man) died of AIDS.

That wasn't the only drama to jolt the neighborhood. A year after moving into my apartment, I thought I was losing my mind. In addition to the weekday nights that Betty's son decided to blare his music, I often heard the sound of a rooster crowing around 5 a.m. It was weird to me since there wasn't a farm around for miles. I hesitated to tell anybody until Betty randomly brought it up during one of her updates.

Betty: Oh my goodness. Somebody finally did something about that rooster!
Me: (relieved) What are you talking about?
Betty: Don't tell me you didn't hear that rooster crowing!
Me: You know, I didn't know for sure if it was a rooster, but I'd hear something crow then it would stop real quick. I thought it was my imagination all along!
Betty: Uh huh. Baby, see, I'm from the deep south. I know a rooster when I hear one. That was definitely a rooster!
Me: So what's the story with that?
Betty: Well, between me and you, the cops done found out about them roosters so now we'll be able to sleep!
Me: Where were the roosters?
Betty: You ain't know? Those people right there in that house were having cock fights in the basement!