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| - There was a time I liked Wayne Newton. Not anymore.
Houseboat neighbors at Overton Beach Marina for five or so years, his pretty blonde wife routinely gave me the skunk-eye. So did her mom and Wayne for that matter.
The thing is, I never knew Wayne was my neighbor.
I thought he was just some jerk with a pompadour haircut resembling the nose cone of a 747, still stuck in the sixties. Until one fateful day when I boarded my buddy's boat, attempting to borrow some of his boat fenders and that's when all hell broke loose. Unbeknownst to me, the Newton's were staying on my buddy's boat while theirs was under repair.
This caused the entire family to question me like I was stealing the fenders, and since I didn't know who they were, I told 'em to fuck-off. Big mistake.
Soon after, the marina manager called to inform me how Wayne Newton wasn't very happy with my antics, asking that I return the fenders when I was through using them, and, to consider an apology.
I returned the fenders later that weekend, but because the Newtons chased me down the dock as I dragged six, thirty inch long boat fenders, tripping all over the fucking place, I never did apologize.
The marina manager is a nice guy, his name is Paul.
My other neighbors were mostly Mormons who liked to drink with me after their spouses and kids had turned in for the evening. Mormons...go figure.
So if you see a big white vessel named Summer WInd 2, avoid it at all costs.
Mrs. Newton does look pretty good in a bikini though. Great cans.
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