A few doors down the street lives a group I call the White Trash household. Aside from the occasional overrevving of engines, they're pretty innocuous, if not stereotypical, neighbors - the overweight bumpkin always working on his car, at least one filthy-mouthed bar skank girl, the prerequisite pitbull, and the Other Guy.

I'm unsure as to how the Other Guy fits in to their particular social fabric. He is of average build with brownish hair and one of those bushy mustaches which connects to his bushy sideburns. He looks almost like a New England fisherman until you watch him more closely, when his torpid speech and staggering walk make him indistinguishable from a drunken homeless person.

Right now he's outside, observing another neighbor's mechanical work, drinking a Smart Water. I'll let you know if it works.