Theft by Finding: Diaries 1977-2002

by David Sedaris

At the mailbox this afternoon I met Faye, the heavy woman next door with the red hair. She asked if I had change for a quarter, and while I went through my pockets she asked if I knew anyone who had a phone. She said she needed to call her daddy, so I let her in. When Faye got no answer, she asked if she could try again later. Then she said that if I needed any furniture, just holler because she and her boyfriend, Vic, have a whole lot. A few minutes later she returned with a woman who’s even bigger than she is. The friend had knocked on my door yesterday and asked if Johnny was here. “I’m afraid I don’t know any Johnny,” I told her. It turns out Faye has a cat as well, a Siamese named Tiki. She saw Neil when she was using the phone and asked if I’d be interested in having the two of them mate. On her way out, she told me that she has two beautiful daughters that Social Services has taken. She hasn’t seen them since December 24, but if she and Vic are good, she can maybe get them back. “The woman in one oh three is a hussy,” Faye said. “She’s forty-one, but I’m just twenty-nine and had never been in jail in my life until last year.” She asked if I’d make some puppets for her beautiful daughters and told me that while she was out the other day, Vic had the hussy right there in their bed. To get him back she also made love with someone in the exact same spot. Last Friday she cut Vic, and the police arrived while she still had the knife in her hand.