Monday, January 4, 2010

His Father was Assassinated by the Crack Gangs

I should let you know now that I am a magnet for crazy people. I don't know why or how, but even in a room full of people, the one crazy person in the room will find me, target me and never back down.

My first run in with a crazy person happened when I was 12 years-old. I was standing on Owen Sound's main street waiting for my mom to come out of a shop when an obese man, with a gravy stained shirt and greasy hair came up to me and started yelling in my face. He demanded money. When I told him I didn't have any he went on a rant about how poor he was, how he couldn't feed his family or buy cigarettes. He told me he was starving and only I could help him. Then his drunken wife showed up. She was even bigger and filthier then her husband and she reeked of beer and urine. She yelled at her husband to leave me alone, that I was just a little girl... he continued to yell at me and she continued to yell at him. Then my mom came out of the shop. She took one look at these people and said "scram". They did. No one fucks with my mom.

Ever since then I have had regular run-ins with odd or crazy people. Today's incident has become one of my favourites!

I was taking the subway to work when a man started speaking very loudly about eggs. Speaking is not really the right word, lecturing is more like it. He was acting like a preacher and the rest of the commuters trapped in that car were his congregation. He told us that we needed to boycott eggs and egg heads. Once we did that the crack heads would leave the city. No more eggs, no more crack heads. He went on to explain that he had made a translation of the bible and found that animals volunteered for the torture we put them through. Hear that, all you vegans out there! The animals volunteered in biblical times to be eaten! Crazy man playing preacher then said that having chickens lay eggs was torture and you can identify the chickens in the bible through the letter "A". Apparently the lower case "a" symbolizes a chicken roosting and an upper case "A" depicts the chicken standing. This was all very fascinating, but I was grateful when the subway pulled into my stop and I was able to get away from the man... or so I thought. As the doors made there closing tune and I made my way down the platform, I could still hear the man preaching about ridding the city of crack heads. I glanced backwards to find crazy man right behind me! I didn't panic, I didn't flinch, I just turned around and kept walking, and he kept following me. All the way down the platform and all the way up the escalator to street level I had him as my shadow. He never once stopped talking. He told me that he had been attacked, that his father had been assassinated by the crack gangs and that if he weren't such a strong person he might have succumbed to the same fate. Arriving at street level and stepping into the light made my ranting shadow disappear. His voice faded and I walked into my office building alone, but smiling. Of all the crazy people I have encountered this man was by far the most inventive and well spoken. He made an interesting argument and my commute into work fascinating.

2 comments:

  1. Omg. I can totally relate to this post! Crazy people ALWAYS talk to me. This one time I was taking my groceries home on the bus and this crazy guy was talking to everyone, and i was looking at him and he said WHAT? DON'T YOU KNOW WHAT AUTISM IS. I, truthfully, answered yes. That was the wrong answer. Also, true say about people fucking with your mom lol!

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  2. Lol he asked you, of all people, what autism is! Love it! You're like my autism expert :P
    Hahah yeah, my mom *le sigh*... don't mess with mamma bear!

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