Saturday, September 04, 2010
Compromised
My cover has been blown...
I have a confession to make. I am not actually the buoyantly cynical writer/student/bookstore clerk you have all come to love to hate.
This unraveling of my false identity began on Thursday. I was standing at the bus stop after work, when some character, about 6'2" with blond hair, light blue eyes, backwards baseball cap and a scowl. He inquired about my headphones. He asked where I got them and if they were expensive. 
The ear wear in question: Sony MDR-J10 h.Ear Headphones as shown in the image there. They cost about 20-30 bucks. I have an mp3 player because I find listening to music or podcasts helps long waits and trips go by that much better. It also drowns out hearing the inane chatter, the crying babies, the arguing couples, the gurgles and groans of the handicapped, and most importantly, it's supposed to let weirdos know I don't want to talk, not having much luck with that... The character stood there staring at me, so I made smalltalk, then he stood there a bit longer and then vanished. That night was overall a disaster. On the bus, some human germ infestation sat beside me sneezing the largest, slimiest sneezes. He had red, gooey bumps all over his mouth. Across from me sat a handicapped man who told me all about how he plans to get a job in construction. When I returned to my padded cell, I just wanted to wash it all off of me and go on with my life.
The next day, I had to take the bus to work again. When I sat down, the character was there. He stared at me. I acknowledged him and he extended his hand. I shook it, not 100% sure why, and at that time, I didn't even know why he wanted to shake my hand. I assumed he thought there was some major bond formed between us from him asking me about my headphones. Because of my stupid job I have become really adept at pretending to be amiable. I listen to what almost anybody says until they run out of breath, I reply with corny jokes where needed, I put on the canned smile, I look for social cues to respond to. It doesn't take much effort to do so.
When I shook the character's hand, he stared at me with his piercing eyes and pointed one finger up and said something. I had to remove my headphones and hear what he said, "We need to talk." I shrugged and said "Uh, OK". I didn't know when he wanted to, and I certainly didn't know what he wanted to talk about. He had some course calendar book for the [Ye Faithful Zealot] religious school that's on the campus of [Miskatonic University]. I thought he wanted to talk to me about God or some shit, or maybe he wanted to sell me something, or maybe he wanted to tell me about a business opportunity. I've had people approach me about all of those things in the past, so I am desensitized to a fault when it comes to that.
The character sat there staring at me. A few minutes passed and he said it again, "We need to talk." He then stood up and said, "Everybody, could I have your attention? I am being followed. THIS MAN IS A SPY FROM CSIS! He's been following me! I know he has! He's a spy from CSIS! He's a spy from CSIS!" Of course he was pointing at me. I didn't really react, I just sat there thinking, "For fuck's sake... Once again, weird things happening to me." I looked over to the people beside me and they were just saying, "Calm down." I was saying, "What's going on?" The character then said, "Let me off the bus! Let me off the bus!" So the bus driver obliged and the character bolted from the bus. I looked for him and saw him darting off for a mile before the bus pulled away.
Well you heard the man, I'm a spy, a spy who's so good that he can hide his identity from himself. What an asshole. I admit, I can do things which seem pretty clandestine. I may or may not be mysterious looking since I tend to wear all black, or at least dark clothing, sunglasses, and those ungodly headphones. But still, it was completely uncalled for for him to make that accusation in a public place, and to react that way. All I want to do is live in this little world that I have carved out for myself and be left alone by hoi polloi zombies and whack-jobs alike. So for this shithead to draw unwanted attention to me for bizarre accusations, it's an unforgivable sin. I am going to take the liberty of buying a knife and a cattle prod, so that if I see him again, I can at least have some fun.
Overall, It was a surreal experience, and I'm sure it will make its way into a story in some shape or form someday. I'm sure there will be many more wacky adventures in my life. I hope no more feature this fucktard, but if I do happen to see him, I will have to let my inner sadist out.
Until then,
See everyone in hell!
