The town of newport was like any other small town in america, quite, easy going, and best of all, everyone knew everyone. So when i moved to town, i was the center of attention.
My name is clarence, but everyone calls me chuck. I moved to newport a year ago from toronto, and it was a cultural shock. I was used to a big city environment. Newport was nothing like that. The biggest feature that the town could boast was a four way stop with a blinking red light. Hillbilly hell.
The house i moved into wasnt so bad. A simple two bedroom flat like place, with a nice bay window that had a beautiful view of the lake in the back. It took me a week to get all of my belongings from canada to newport, so it took me a bit to actually get to know the town. And by the time i did, winter had hit.
I remember the first time i first met my neighbors. An older couple, around my age of my parents. A knock on my door woke me from my nap. I had just finished putting up my christmas decorations. Up until this day, i had no idea i even had neighbors. Apparently the couple had took a retirement vacation london, and had just came back for christmas. I opened the door to the smell of a wonderful peach cobbler. A beautiful woman with blonde hair held it out to me and offered the biggest smile she could muster. Her husband was a big wall of a man, easily almost seven foot tall. He offered his hand, and as we shook, i realized he was missing his middle finger. His hat said vietnam.
I invited them in, asked them to ignore the mess, and offered them a drink.