By Bob McNeil
I saw my neighbor’s kid while grocery shopping. With long black hair and Goth clothes, he looked just like the thugs who mugged my wife.
At the car, I noticed my back pocket felt empty. Frantically, I searched for my wallet, but to no avail.
A skateboarder cut in front. It was that kid in an outfit Marilyn Manson or Rob Zombie would have worn.
“Did you drop this, dude?” He held out my wallet with everything in it.
Feeling relieved and stupid, I offered him money.
“No thanks, neighbor,” he said.
To say the least, I misjudged that young man.
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