Monday, October 25, 2004

Reality bites

Laura and I left the house today to wander down High Street in search of some G&T's penny Halloween costumes. The sidewalk in front of our house is fairly narrow, and when I noticed that guy on the bike behind us, I stepped aside to let him pass.

Except that he didn't pass. He stopped the bike, an old git with at least one foot in the grave, or as my dad puts it, who looked like he had been whacked with a coffin lid a good few times.
He said something to me, and I went: "Huh?"
"Why are you kids so weird?", he said to me.
I was kinda flabbergasted... what the hell had we said or done that made him ask this? And as usual, instead of just wandering off and ignoring the wacko, I asked: "What makes you say that?"
"Do you sleep at night?", he asked.
The way he asked was like we had committed some crime about which our conscience should pester us into insomnia.
"Umm", I said.
"Do you dream?"
"Do you dream of sexy guys?"

For fuck's sake. I am flypaper for freaks!
I pulled a face and, in turning away, waved him off and said: "Ewww, don't be creepy. Now run along. Shoo!"
Laura pulled a face and we crossed the street, while the guy cycled on.
"God I hate creepy guys!", Laura said.
Well, be prepared, darlin. There are more where that one came from, and if you hang out with me, you are bound to meet them all.

The thing that got me was: he is the ancient git with no teeth, wearing a Disney's Hunchback of Notre Dame basecap, and he tells me I'm weird?


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