He called out of the blue today. 
 
"Hey," he said. "You remember that crazy bum from Beverly Hills? The guy who called you a 'fucking Nazi' every morning for a week?" 
 
"Vaguely," I answered. "Near the Starbucks on Lasky?" 
 
"Yep. One and the same." he replied. 
 
I told him that, indeed, I did remember the unfortunate gentleman who'd taken such a shine to me last summer. 
 
"Why do you ask?" I wondered aloud. 
 
"Because he's still here!" he laughed. "But now he calls people 'Saddam Hussein'." 
 
He knew that I would want to know. He thought that perhaps I could work it in to one of my stories. 
 
He was wrong.