"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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Being a degenerate is okay these days
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((Nathan Lovegrove Pregame Start))

Nathan sighed as he surveyed the tables set up in the yard. He and Michelle had tried to make things more or less organized, but Nana just had so many things that they'd eventually decided needed to be sold or given away rather than kept. Most of it had been sitting in boxes in their garage or attic since Nana's house had been sold and she moved in with the family. Michelle had already spent a good part of the morning complaining heartily about having to haul boxes and the folding tables out, and all the back-and-forth trips needed.

"Why do old people have so much junk?" She said for the third or fourth time, half-heartedly trying to adjust a pile of old sweaters that neither of them had ever seen their grandmother wear.

"Well, you just get stuff over time and she's in her seventies..." Nathan went back to the piece of cardboard he was writing on, pressing harder on the sharpie, which was running out of ink. He had a small pile of signs already, which they were intending to set up down the road to direct passers-by to the yard sale.

"Getting old sounds like a nightmare," Michelle decided. She bent down to coo at Titan, whose leash was currently tied to the leg of one of the tables. "Right, Titan? Getting old suuuucks." The dog thumped his tail against the ground and licked at her fingers when she reached out to pat him.

"I'll just give all your stuff to Goodwill when you get old then," Nathan assured her. She made a face at him, then glanced over his shoulder and frowned.

"Uh, Nathan? Do all the signs look like that?"

"Like wh- oh goddammit." Sure enough, instead of "YARD SALE", the sign in his hands read "YARD SARD" in bold letters. A quick look through the rest that he'd done revealed that nearly half of them had the same mistake. Nathan sighed again and rubbed a hand over his face, feeling an embarrassed flush creeping up his neck.

"It's not a big deal," Michelle tried to reassure him. "People will know what you mean."

"Yeah, no, I'm not putting these up so everybody can take pictures and tag me in them on Facebook. The good ones should be enough." He sorted out the faulty signs and handed them to Michelle. "Go put these in the recycling bin or something, and I'll go set the rest up."

He got to his feet and gathered up the rest of the cardboard and the tape he'd set aside. They'd just have to make due with what was left and it'd be fine. That was what he told himself as he taped the first sign to the lamppost on the street corner.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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Yard Sard · The Neighborhood