Saturday, March 22, 2008
A Confederacy of Nutcases
Now, there aren't too many soft spots in my cold black heart, but there sure is one for lunatics. They really colour my life. And while I don't believe in any of that New Age Law of Attraction mumbo jumbo, sometimes I find a lot of things to convince me that I'm a weird magnet. The last couple weeks, I've had a high concentration of weirdos filling up my crayon box.
Loony #1: Last Monday, as I came home, I heard the phone ring. Caller ID displayed "No Data". I answered, "Hello?"
"Hi, did you call my number?" A confused voice of early puberty asked me. Obviously, I didn't if I had just gotten home.
I said, "No."
I was ready to hang up, when he decided to ask, "Are you black or white?" I don't know what significance the question had, he must have had some "clever" and "acerbic" answer lined up if I answered either.
So, on the spot, I said, "I'm green."
He guffawed, "YOU'RE GREEN?! BWA HA HA HA HA HA HA!" And he hung up. It was so random and... pointless. If it was a crank call, boy have kids lost their edge. Back when I used to do them, I used to have a cast of characters I'd be and I'd actually provoke fierce reactions. Kids these days. Too much Youtube or something, who knows.
Loony #2: This is a Loony I know personally, the account I'll give isn't too recent, but I just have to share stories like the ones she's generated. My mother, for as long as I can remember, has kept around this religious nutbar of a friend named [Sister Sister]. Now, [Sister Sister]'s life, if I wanted to include all of the crazy shit that she's been involved with, I'd have to write it into a book. But in short, she's a Bible Thumping nutcase, who from time to time hears God profess her doom. She has four children but only loves her most dysfunctional one who has spent the last decade of his life in and out of prison. Her husband is a blind clinical moron (his IQ is in the 50s) who used to set fires to houses when he was younger. And as a hobby, she sleeps in cemeteries.
I mean, I could go on and on with that, but I guess she would believe that God made other lunatics so that they can share some of the spotlight.
Anyway, the other story about receiving a weird phone call reminds me of another night a few years ago. I'd gotten home at 5 AM, after an exhausting day where I had already encountered enough loonies. I plopped down on my bed, not quite awake not quite asleep. Soon enough I was hearing the phone ringing . So at such an hour, it must have either been someone calling to seduce me over the phone, threaten to kill me, or to let me know somebody's kicked the bucket. But nope, it was a withered woman's voice, "Hellooo... is your moooother theeeere?" I told her that it was 5 AM, everybody else was still asleep. After hanging up, I turned my ringer off, that's the last voice I would like to hear at 5 AM. It was the night that she had wed her blind and moronic arsonist of a husband, so I could only imagine that she was calling my mother to inform her of their passionate and sinful wedding night.
Another night, I was awakened at 2 or 3 AM to hear her pleasant voice tell me "OUR LIVES ARE IN DANGER!". She was having another psychotic episode. She said that she had earlier claimed that she was being told by a voice named "God" that she would be dying very soon and that all of her children would be eating out of the dumpster. I wasn't the only person she did this to. She apparently called her children and her ex-husband to inform them as well.
I recently heard that she has slipped once again. That said, I can expect a deranged phone call any late night now. I wonder what good "news" she'll have this time around.
Loony #3:
So I've been spending my afternoons in the [Hell Hall Library] of [Miskatonic University]. This has been my most productive environment yet. An outlet for my laptop and limited distractions go a long way. I mean, there is still the internet, but let's be real, it's not very becoming to be cackling hysterically at the weird shit on Snuff X in such a setting. And even though I've been writing faster, I haven't been as fastidious. I cringe at a lot of what I produce, but the fact is that I've been making steady progress. I'll give it the old bufferoo soon enough, no biggie.
Anyway, last night, I was heading home after another successful session when I found myself being treated to some real knee-slappers. The bus was running late so we all stood around in the bracing cold weather waiting for it. Most of the people were there as fairly pedestrian pedestrians. However, there was one guy who stood out like a gray pubic hair. It this guy in maybe his late 20s or early 30s in goth-punk attire. A skull shirt with sleeves his thumbs poked out of, red and black cargo pants with an abundance of pockets, and a spiky collar. I truly admire the whole alternative/extreme type of aesthetic even though I probably wouldn't go that far. I prefer to stick to black dress shirts, slacks, and sweaters. Reason, I've never felt young so I might as well dress ageless... but dark. Then a friend of his came, a 40 year old boozer, backwards baseball cap, old brown jacket and filthy jeans.
Goth-punk called out to him, "Hey Budday! You got here just in time!" Upon opening his mouth, I learned that he has one of those voices which make him sound like he's got a bad case of constipation and is forever trying to squeeze it out to no avail. Boozer made his salutations and they moved on to engage in smalltalk. How was I to know that I was in the presence of the Abbot & Costello of the 21st century?
I got on the bus, and not long after, the dynamic duo came on. There was a good amount of vacant seats, but of course, they sat right beside me. A pocket of Goth-Punk's was wet, liquid was seeping out of it and pooling on the seat between us. I noticed the scent, but before it registered, he pulled out a 40 ounce bottle of beer. Goth-Punk and boozer started sharing the bottle right on the bus. It didn't take long for the booze to do its job as a social lubricant. The two of them got to chatting. I didn't pay much attention to begin with. I was off in my own world thinking about what I'd produced for the day, plus I thought what they had to talk about was just run of the mill gristle-head chatter. But soon, my ears started wandering to their conversation.
I heard Goth-Punk say, "I love it when I rape girls. And you know what? Girls love it when I rape them!" Boozer nodded along with him. He decided to explicate his point, "They'll go 'Don't! Stop! Don't! Stop! Please don't stop! Please! Don't stop!'" He had my full attention. Not just because the conversation was so outlandish, but also because they were louder than anything else in the bus, even its motor. He continued to say, "Oh, and guess what?"
The Boozer couldn't guess.
"I fucked my friends mom the other day!" This far into the conversation, I was nearly in tears. I was hardly able to contain myself. Holding in my side-splitting laughter was as hard as holding in a gallon of piss. He went on, "I was fucking her and she was going wild for me. I was shocked that someone in her 60s was such a beast in the bed! I was fucking her, then I got my cock in her ass!"
Boozer was reminded of something. "Oh yeah! You know what? This girl I was fuckin' the other night was begging me to fuck her in the ass!"
Goth-Punk said, "No shit! She wanted you to?" Then revealed that even he has his inhibitions. "I don't know, when a girl tells me she wants it in the ass, I can't do it man!" They were pretty much the centre of attention. Everyone else was in shock, disgust, or amazement. There was one guy who sat across from me who sat there unabashedly laughing his ass off as a spectator.
Then the bus driver went on the PA and said "Contrary to popular belief, the [Public Bus Ministry] does not have a Liquor License! NO DRINKING ON THIS BUS!" What a killjoy.
Goth-Punk said, "Ooookay there, budday!" He then took another sip of beer. Boozer, the obvious straight man decided to convince him that it wasn't such a good idea. After that, the little show they put on lost its momentum.
After they got off the bus, one viewer raved,"This is the best bus ride I've ever had!" And boy was he ever right. I kept it all in, hardly, and by the time I got home and reached my padded cell, I had exploded with laughter. I could hardly pull myself from the floor, laughing the way I did.
I will make certain to find out when their next show is. But for now...
See everyone in hell!
