Hanna and Betty: my former neighbors

The site of their apartment is now a giant condo monstrosity. Every evening I am sure to let Chester pee all over it. These are stories of my former neighbors that I wrote in 2006. I wonder where they are.

I've become friends with Hanna Bumbera and Betty Rumble. They're losing their apartment to yet another giant developer and will probably end up homeless unless they can get it together to find housing. Bumbera joked he was moving to Tijuana. Poor Betty just seems sad. She actually apologized to me for the way she looked the other morning. She had a can of beer in a brown paper bag and attempted to fix her hair. I told her not to worry and that we all looked bad "at this hour." Chester adores her and it makes me happy to see him give her kisses. She talks often about the two dogs she used to have and I wonder how she ended up this way. I gave her a big bag of clothes.

In the town of Valrock

Hanna BumBera and Betty Rumble sauntered towards me out of their alley. HB pointed to my dog.

"Big baby!"

"Yes, he's a big baby."

I looked and he had peed his pants.

D.O.A.

I stop to let Hanna Bumbera and Betty Rumble cross the street. HB is wearing an LA County Coroner's Sweatshirt. It has the logo on the back, which includes a chalkmark body outline. I doubt he knows how sickly hilarious this is, because even though it's before 11am, they are in bad shape. HB is looking less like Fred Flintstone and more like the Indian character that used to be on Big Wheels snack cakes. Colt 45 is nowhere to be seen. (Note: "Colt 45" is their occasional accomplice. He would sometimes pass out on the corner across from my building.)