by Jamie Locke and Monetta Slaybaugh

Last weekend I told Monetta she could tool around with my Vespa 100 Sport and use it, if she could get it running and if she parked it at her house for a while (I'd been getting parking tickets on it lately, probably because the neighbors are pissed at us for having loud parties and called the parking fuzz). Monetta rolled it to her house Saturday, and then decided it was too small. Before my friend Matt could pick it up and roll it to his house, Monetta came in late to work today and told me the following story:

This grey Wednesday morning, Monetta was abruptly awakened by her roommate who asked her what was going on with the scooter outside; "There's this guy out there, trying to pry it off the fence, who says its his!" Monetta wrapped a blanket around herself and looked out her second-story window and saw what she described as a "Homeless Disco Guy" trying to pry the lock off of it. Next to him on the sidewalk was a denim duffle bag and a very small bicycle, about the right size for a 6 year old.

Some background on Homeless Disco Guy. from Monetta:
"I first saw him about a week prior to the incident. I was at Brainwash (my local laundromat) doing my laundry. There was this guy dancing around the washers, about 25, good looking, with short blonde hair and a tan, but obviously nuttier than a fruitcake. I think he had serious delusions of grandeur. He kept tying his clean shirts on his head and looking at his reflection. Then he would dance around and mumble at people. It was fascinating in a car wreck kinda way."

(Back to the sidewalk) A rough account of words exchanged:

Monetta: "Hey! Get away or I'm calling the cops!"

Homeless Disco Guy: "Do you know who owns this scooter? It's stolen!"

M: "No it isn't! It belongs to my friend! Now get the fuck away from it!"

HDG: "This scooter belongs to me! I worked 12 hard hours for it!"

M: "Well you didn't get a very good deal then! Anyway, it's not yours, so you better get away or I'm calling the cops!"

HDG: "Go ahead! Call the cops! I'll prove it's mine!" (He is walking aroud in circles in front of the window gesticulating wildly and mumbling to himself.)

Monetta (in the window, dialing 911) "You're crazy!"

HDG: "Yes, I'm crazy alright, crazy about this Vespa!"

Monetta started talking to the 911 operator. Meanwhile HDG yelled through the window "It's mine! I earned it! Put some clothes on! You're embarrassing yourself!" A cop pulled up while Monetta was still talking to 911, because apparently a neighbor called as well. HDG kept insisting to the officer that it was his. Monetta got dressed and goes downstairs to survey the damage and noticed all the rubber was peeled off my Kryponite lock and some mild damage was done to the body. They put HDG in the back of the cop car and came to talk to Monetta. The cops wanted to book him on "malicious mischief" but Monetta convinced them to book him on attempted burglary.

I talked to the cop today, who was chuckling to me about my little motorcycle and how crazy this homeless guy is. "He doesn't have an address or anything. And boy, is he crazy! He's got a thick psych file upstairs but you know, they won't let me see it, confidential and all, ha ha." He was talking to me in this way that if I was standing next to him he would elbow me and offer me a big, glazed donut to ease my dismay.

What will tomorrow bring?