Well, there's a relatively new homeless guy in my neighborhood I've been telling stories on and maybe it's time to blog about him.
The first time I met the new guy, I was walking to the library to return some books and, of course, that route runs right past the Pierce County Alliance. Being a social services co-op, it's something of a magnet for the downtrodden, with their lumberjack plaid (men), acid wash (women) and dirty ponytails (both sexes), but even so this man stood out for his out-and-out goofy expression, with eyes sheltered beneath a veritable gable of a forehead. And his head, with a large chunk of it either shaved or permanently hair-free over his left ear from some sort of brain injury or operation.
As I was walking by, the new guy greeted me with a cheerful, "You're tall for a white girl!" He seemed to want to continue the conversation, even though we were walking in opposite directions, but eventually realized I was not stopping and said, "Well, I see you have to go ..." from a half block away.
At the time, I did not realize he was a new addition to the neighborhood, but I started seeing him often. At the bus stop, by the deli, the guy was around, often talking to himself or anyone who wandered within fifty feet.
It was about a week ago when my new neighbor took things to a level worth blogging about. It was a peaceful evening when I heard a booming, gravelly voice screaming, "I will arrest you, mother------! You are under arrest! That is right, this is the police and mother------, you are under arrest!" You would seriously not believe the volume and range of this voice. The rumbly, non-vocal-chord projected part of his voice would give most speed metal screamers a reason to give up. This was a devil voice. And I look out the window and it is my new neighbor screaming at the air! I had no idea he had that in him!
Well, the screaming was startling but when I realized it was him I settled down right away. He's got some sort of Broca's injury at the very least, but man, I wondered where he learned to talk so authoritatively of being under arrest.
So today I went to the local grocery store to get a roasted chicken (it was 85 degrees (in the PNW I call that "sunny with a chance of motorcycles"), I'm not sure why I got a wild hare for chicken) and there he was hanging out at that corner. Wearing a T-shirt, a jacket and a tie with two strings of shiny beads (silver and purple) under the tie. As he greeted me I said, "Happy Mardi Gras."
He didn't get it. I am probably kind of a jerk for saying it.
Also: After I finished writing this I heard him yelling again. Maybe he's not as cheerful in the heat.
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