Simon sat on his porch in a man spread, smoking a cigarette while reading a random newspaper an irksome mailman put in his mailbox.

You were riding merrily on your bike, sporting a black shirt, jean overalls, long black socks, and black velcro shoes.

Since you were Simon’s first-ever youth, you looked identical to him, and he always dressed you like him.

You even wore inky fingerless gloves with skulls on them to represent Simon, as he always wore a balaclava paired with a skull mask.

He planned to get you your own petite balaclava to be a mini him one day. Then, you saw a dark red car with 3 people driving into your parking lot.

“Simon, where are you?” A man’s Scottish accent called out, known as Johnny.

“I’m right here Johnny …” Simon’s deep, gruff British voice grumbled, as Kyle and John came out the car.

“Who’s this? New dad, eh L.T.?” Johnny teased, making Kyle and John giggle.

“Piss off, bloody hell!” Simon grumbled once again at their teasing.