He was always such a nice neighbor. He was always sure to ask if he was being a bother while throwing a party. He was always sure to keep his trashcans neat on the curb. He was always sure to give me a smile and a bold wave whenever catching my eye on his way out to the car for his morning commute. It was nice to have such a nice neighbor. I could always catch him in a full suit or a Mr. Rogers cardigan. He was so ideal. So quaint. So sweet and charming from afar.

He was foreign but spoke my language so eloquently and with conviction that no one would have guessed it beyond a handful of words. He would twirl the end of one side of his mustache and push his glasses up on his nose when he would come by my home and give me a warm meat pie. He would smile with his eyes and tell me it was a secret family recipe from his homeland. My god they were the most delicious, flaky, juicy meat pies I've ever had. He said he would make them from scratch. The hunks of meat were so tender and smooth they would melt in your mouth, I swear! He would say the word 'friend' a lot when speaking with me. He would reference me as such all the time and I knew he meant it.

We would share his meat pies together at the breakfast nook in my home with two tall glasses of fresh milk and talk about this or that. He would say, "Friend, you have a bit of schmutz on your cheek there." and I would wipe the meat pie juice away with a cloth napkin and smile at him. We would do that at least once a month and it was the most wonderful time. He would talk about his homeland and always start with the words, "Friend, you know I love this place, but sometimes I miss my home." I would nod and listen to his magical words well into the twilight. On more than one occasion I would break open a bottle of brandy and we would talk and talk and talk and god he was such a good neighbor. When he would leave, he would always say the same thing, "Friend, you be good, alright?" I would wave him on and sleep with the salty hunks of meat from his pie warming me throughout the night while I dreamed of the beautiful man living next door.

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He would clip his hedges in a large and floppy sunhat and wipe his forehead and see me watching him. Want to know what he would say? He would say, "Friend, come out of the sun. It's so hot out." and we would sit on his front lawn under his beautiful maple tree and sip lemonade and yes, of course, he would bring out a fresh meat pie and we would have such a time!

Then he showed me 'how the sausage was made' so to speak. He would cruise the local parks and bring home the men looking to get their rocks off. He would lead them into the bedroom and inject them with a needle while I watched from the closet. He assured them the contents of the syringe would intensify the pleasure they would feel. In all reality, it kept them totally awake but unable to respond while he ground their bones and shed their flesh. Would you like to know what he would tell me? He would tell me, "Friend, it keeps the meat tender to have them watch." He would smile at me with those beautiful gray eyes from behind those gold rimmed glasses and I would force a sheepish grin in response. The pies were even more delicious than before. It is true what they say about having a more intimate relationship with your food. It makes all the difference.

One day I looked out of my window and saw the blue lights warbling outside of my dear friend's home and knew he wouldn't be coming back. I only wish I could have told him how much he meant to me. Our time together was wonderful. I read in the paper that he had perhaps fled back to his homeland. This makes me smile every time I think about it. He would say to me, "Friend, you know I love this place, but sometimes I miss my home."

This was such a beautiful thought in the back of my mind. The lot next to mine has stayed vacant and I do miss seeing him over there, but something has happened that overjoys me. I received a package in my mailbox. It was a pan with a warm meat pie wrapped in saran wrap. The paper taped to it said this, "For my friend."

I know he is still at large, and it makes me so giddy to know that my best friend is out there doing what he loves. He very well might just pay you a visit and call you 'friend' too. In fact, I just know he will!