A continuing story of love and lust in Chicago, the city of big shoulders and abs of steel.

“Who the hell are you?”

That’s how the box of DVDs ends up in the snow on their new front lawn. He drops it when the old lady startles the bejesus out of him with a voice that could wake the dead. She just appears out of nowhere-like some sort of witch. And she does kind of remind him of Endora from Bewitched-except for the black jacket with an embroidered white “SOX” on the front, the hot pink Converse sneakers and the cigarette hanging out of her mouth. Actually it’s her face that conjures up images of Samantha’s marvelous mother-the false eyelashes, the ruby lipstick and the bright red hair styled in such a glamorous way that one can almost overlook the rest of her. Almost.

“I asked you a question, young man.”

He really doesn’t know what to make of this strange creature now shaking her nasty habit at him, but he’s finally able to utter: “I’m Seth. Seth Robinson.”

“Is that your real name? Sounds kind of fake to me.”

“No-I mean yes-it’s my real name, swear to God. We just moved in today,” he tells her while gesturing around at the U-Haul truck parked on the street, the dropped box with big black magic marker labeling its contents-and, of course, the red brick bungalow at 4944 North Fosse Avenue.

“Oh. The new neighbors.” The lady finally seems satisfied, although her sour scowl remains.

“Who’s Mike?” Seth now inquires, pointing at the “I Like Mike” button on her jacket.

She rolls her eyes with an exasperated sigh before replying: “Our next President, of course.”

“Oh. Of course.” Mr. Brady initially came to mind, followed by Douglas and Caine-even though neither actor goes by the shortened version-as well as that sexy guy who was on Alias and more recently that bad show about big men-but Huckabee? Seth certainly wasn’t expecting to meet a supporter of his here in Chicago.

“You’re not a fan of Monica Lewinsky’s ex-boyfriend’s wife, are you?” the woman suddenly wants to know.

“Well-” He is unsure how best to respond but, fortunately, she continues without waiting for his answer: “‘Cause we’ve already got enough of those around here to start a Tupperware party.”

And with these final words, Agnes Moorehead takes her unpleasant Marlboro-and matching personality-and walks across the street to an ivy-clad yellow brick house, leaving Mr. Robinson to suddenly miss his previous home in Indianapolis.

“I see you met Edna.”

He turns to find a friendly face smiling at him.

“She’s not so bad once you get to know her. An odd duck, yes, but perfectly harmless.” The handsome bald stranger-probably around forty would be Seth’s initial guesstimation-extends his large hand. “I’m Roger-from 4926.”

“Seth.”

“Welcome to the street, Seth.”

“Thanks,” says the new kid on the block before he invites his neighbor in out of the chilly February weather.

“It’s been a helluva winter,” Roger complains while casting a furtive glance at the box Seth has just set down on the crowded living room floor. “So who’s the DVD collector in the family?”

“Me-mostly.”

“Me, too. You mind if I take a look?” The guy seems giddy with delight at this common interest as he suddenly drops to his knees and begins investigating the contents of the box. “I buy all of our entertainment. Doug-my partner-he’s just too busy-oh, gotta love What’s Up, Doc?-and Sordid Lives, what a hoot-so Doug, he doesn’t have the time to buy movies and whatnot, so that’s my job-ooo, Lady in a Cage, great flick-but I don’t mind, I love movies. Houseboat! I adore Houseboat! Cary Grant, Sophia Loren-you’ll have to come over and see my closet-Xanadu, Steel Magnolias, Auntie Mame . . .”

Roger now stops his running commentary to look up at his new neighbor and ask in a serious tone: “You’re not a . . . (in a whisper) homosexual, are you?”

“Oh no,” a horrified Seth quickly replies. “But my boyfriend is. Please don’t tell anyone.”

“My lips are sealed, honey,” the attractive man coos before returning to his intense examination of Mr. Robinson’s cinema collection. “All About Eve, Mommie Dearest, The Sound of Music-oh my, you are so gay.”

“Thank you,” Seth proudly says.

“But wait-what’s this?” his neighbor holds up a DVD with an apprehensive look.

“Oh, that’s Adam’s. He’s always had a thing for Bruce Willis.”

“Okay. To each their own.” Roger reluctantly returns Die Hard to the box (but even he owns a film starring the actor-Death Becomes Her-but it’s Meryl and Goldie who put the movie on one of his closet shelves).

“Knock! Knock! Anyone home?”

“Oh shit, it’s Adelle. Brace yourself,” Seth’s new friend whispers to him just before a big blonde woman appears in the doorway, squeals “Hi, neighbor!” and hugs the startled young man, who wasn’t aware that a tornado ever hit the Windy City-especially one wearing a neon orange parka, polyester pants and a scrunchie in her hair.

To be continued . . .

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Marc Harshbarger lives in Chicago with his partner and two spoiled cats, Shubert and Mr. Grant. His first novel, Deep Dish, was published last year. He is currently a staff writer for Q Netwerk and can be contacted at m.harshbarger@q-netwerk.com. You can find out more about Marc at www.myspace.com/deepdishdrama.

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