Larry was cooking an onion and some chicken scraps he found in the dumpster behind Tasty Thai when we passed him tonight on our way back to the house. He was burning a shirt in a metal drawer as a heat source, but it was to the side of the pan, not beneath it, so there was very little cooking going on. His crack pipe and torch were on his lap. His dog Zsa Zsa wiggled out of a backpack to say hello.
“I don’t have any power,” he announced cheerfully. “I like cooking stuff I find.”
“Make sure you cook it all the way through.”
“What day is it?”
“Easter,” I said.
“I still don’t have any power.”