Shelley and Weasel live in the apartment house across my backyard. Shelley makes crab pots out of coat hangers in her living room. Weasel works in D.C. during the week, spreading misinformation for some anarchists' association. I met them through their son Kenneth, who spies on me from his bedroom window. He became convinced that I was dismembering people and putting them in a hamper, and it took several meetings with Shelley and Weasel to clear things up. But now we're friends and we do stuff together. Like yesterday we had Kenneth's name legally changed to Dino. That was fun.