Wednesday, October 03, 2007
The hairy man
There is a hairy man in town I see almost every day. He's homeless, to the best of my knowledge. I often see him downtown carrying on a very heated discussion with himself, sometimes punching and swatting at his imaginary argumentative self.
Lately he's always by the church that has the free lunch program. I usually walk right by it on my way to work. A few days ago, I was doing just that. The hairy man has never spoken to me, nor have I ever actually made eye contact. But I did. His eyes didn't look as crazy as I thought they might. "Hello." He looked right back at me and said "Good afternoon." Then, in a rush of words "Gotta cigarette? Notta cigarette?" I did not.
A momentary argument with himself ensued and then he shouted after me: "You got tattoos and you don't have a damn CIGARETTE?!!!"
Who dat snappin' back? |
Lately he's always by the church that has the free lunch program. I usually walk right by it on my way to work. A few days ago, I was doing just that. The hairy man has never spoken to me, nor have I ever actually made eye contact. But I did. His eyes didn't look as crazy as I thought they might. "Hello." He looked right back at me and said "Good afternoon." Then, in a rush of words "Gotta cigarette? Notta cigarette?" I did not.
A momentary argument with himself ensued and then he shouted after me: "You got tattoos and you don't have a damn CIGARETTE?!!!"
