The Little Red Car had been parked in nearly the exact same spot behind The Van Man's van for nearly a month. It was gone every morning before he awoke. Van Man figured it must have belonged to some nearby apartment dweller. Who the fuck wants to park behind a van?, he thought.
Van Man had been slightly irked by the situation. It was not just that a Little Red Car was parked behind his van every night. The car had actually taken Van Man's spot. And it was a good spot. Not too close to the main road. Not too far under the street light as to give police a bright target to approach. Not too far in the dark to make the van appear ominous. To Van Man, the spot was the greatest parking spot in the history of parking spots. Dumb mothafucka, he thought to himself. But, alas, Van Man continued on with his life. After all, there were bigger fish to fry.
On a cold December night, the man who owned the Little Red Car made his presence known. And, to Van Man's surprise, he lived in the car. Van Man watched him. He had a ponytail down his back and no hair on top. Bald as a baby, he thought. Ol' bald hippie. The Bald Hippie let his dog run around in the cool park grass. The beast was big and yellow. The Yellow Dog stretched and pissed. Van Man noticed that Ol' Yeller was not the only animal that pissed on the park grass. Bald Hippie stood next to his Little Red Car and relieved himself. When he finished, Bald Hippie called The Yellow Dog and they both slipped into the Little Red Car. It was odd to Van Man that both had been able to so easily slink into the small space.
Van Man tucked himself in for the night. He was no longer irked by the parking situation. The Bald Hippie had become a member of the Park People. Life in a van had made Van Man a welcoming sort. And he knew that if the police showed up one night, they would go after The Hippie first. That was some unwritten rule, he knew. The Van Man relaxed and slept soundly. It was a quiet street. Just a Red Truck, a Little Red Car and a Van.