Ambush Averted: Old Salty Strikes Again!

10.30.13 @ 2.00PM Run out for an errand? When I return there she is, in Brunhilde braids, the same Cap'n Crunch Greek cap in black stuck on her head since 2010, the year I moved in, the same they much rue since invading a house is easier when empty and she needs to expand, into my own, the garden she caretakes when she's not in some kind of basement at 196 37.39 45th Ave Auburndale, NYC, permanently mislabeled on movable slats also since 2010 as 35/37 stuffed there with husband, son and daughter, and who knows what else. I see her in my driveway, which my mother is letting her use to park her car to establish residence, then apply for a green card claiming as income my property, as I try to intimidate-n-snatch my mail from a guy who delivers mail staring at my breasts with an angry grimace, no newspaper, and wait, while she leisurely hovers a dilly dally then decisively approaches my entrance to search and destroy for my mother, in camouflage pants, but eerily lacking an A40-something, and a knife strapped to her teeth. I look at my mail-renewal notice from Mother Jones, some phone stuff, still no America Oggi, her voice raises into "Sodomy" "Queens College" "until he doesn't want her anymore" and more stuff, meaning Maria Leon of White Castle, Jackson Heights, will claim that if Jon Stewart leaves her ( he has her?)  she will say he eats children, hers with him, hers with a sailor, hers in plastic surgery resembling the Fuhrer, from who knows whose matrilineal descent too. Then she walks off, huddling herself against atheism, one arm over another, laughing Then I'll insert my whores to kill that Jew, ha ha ha, until he trusts them, -she did house a Mussolini Alessandra spy- her mother's abusive (true) ha ha ha ha ha  I can call an ambulance on her ha ha ha ha ha and that's that.

Found a broken piece of sunflower seed and a tiny pumpkin one on the floor by my table, in case I got hungry.