There are, quite simply, some things that you don’t see every day. There I am, walking down the street, heading for the subway. It’s six in the evening, and I’m finally done with at the office–I have just enough time to get home, eat some dinner, and then I have an eight o’clock conference call with some representatives of a company in Japan we’re looking to do business with–look, it’s very important stuff, but it doesn’t really have anything to do with what I’m looking at here, on the street corner. There is a man–a rather dirty man, probably homeless by the look of him–dancing around in a full body dog costume, asking people passing by to pet him, or to let him lick their face.
This fucking city, I fucking swear.
I just don’t get it. Is it performance art? Is it a scheme to make money, like those weirdos I’ve heard about who dress up in Times Square? The suit does look suspiciously like Scooby Doo, or something. Is he looking for pity? Handouts? Attention? I don’t see a cup or hat or anything, and no one seems to be giving him anything. Actually, here’s a better question–why in the fuck am I still watching him a complete fool out of himself?
No, seriously. I’ve been standing here for a couple of minutes, just watching this fucker, unable to believe his utter lack of shame. I mean…what in the world happens to a person, that they think this is acceptable? Maybe I should call the police, before he harrasses a woman or something, tries to lick her tits like a freak or worse. Oh shit, he looked at me–is he? He’s coming over here, now what…
“You want to pet me on the head, sir? I’ve been a real good boy today, I swear!”
“No–I…don’t you see that you’re bothering people? What the fuck are you even doing?”
“I can’t help it! I have to, see, it’s a real long story–I mean, I could tell ya the whole thing, if you want, sir, but only if you’re interested. If not, I can find someone else, maybe…”
I see the dejected look in his eye, and the businessman in me tells me to just push past him and get to the subway already. I mean, if I don’t hurry, I’ll miss my usual train, and then my whole schedule will get thrown out of whack! But some other part of me, I admit it…I’m curious. Besides, I could at least get him off the corner, where he’ll stop harassing people, if nothing else. If he flips out, I’ll just call the cops.
“No, you know what? I have a few minutes. I can listen to your story.”
“Wait, really? Oh man, this was even easier, this time!”
“This time?”
“It’s part of the story, you’ll see!”
“Look, are you hungry? There’s a McDonald’s back that way, I’ll buy you a burger.”
“A…A real burger? Oh holy cow, that’s amazing! I never get a whole burger!”
He’s jumping up and down like a lunatic. What the fucking hell have I gotten myself into?
“Hey, calm down! Yeah, I’ll buy you a burger.”
“Thanks sir! I forget what its like to get more than kibble, is all.”
Don’t ask for details. I don’t…really want to know. I head for the fast food joint a few store front’s back, and I have him sit at a table, while I order us food. I can feel his eyes on me the entire time I’m in the line, and it’s making me feel a bit self-conscious, to be honest. I adjust my suit as I’m standing there, and smile weakly at him–he has the same, big grin that he’s been showing since I started speaking with him, looking like he has everything he wants in the entire world–if only things were so simple.
Me? Well, I want everything. Money. Power. Authority. I mostly have money at the moment, but hey, I’m only thirty-two. I have the foundation, and that’s the most important part–now I just have to build on it. I’m a rising star! I look like it too–a nice gym toned body, manicured hair, clean shaven face. I haven’t found…an appropriate wife yet, but it’s not like I need to hurry up and settle for just anyone. I get up to the counter, and order a salad for myself and a quarter pounder for my…friend? No, hardly friend. I’d just call him a curiosity. Besides, this might be a good story! Just wait until everyone at the office tomorrow hears about this freak. The food’s ready in a couple of minutes–I wait at the counter, because I honetly don’t want to spend any more time sitting with the guy than I have to…and why in the world am I even doing this? I’ve definitely missed my train at this point, and if I don’t get one of the next few, I definitely won’t make it home in time for the conference call. Whatever–I’ll just listen for a couple of minutes, eat my salad, and then ditch. The guy got a meal out of me, what else could he want, really?
I take the tray back over to the table where he’s sitting, and I swear, if the guy had a tail, it would be wagging. He could barely stay sitting down…and fuck, is he drooling? Really? He takes the hamburger–almost forgets that he has to unwrap it–does so, and starts chowing down, grease all over his face, and a look of near ecstasy in his eyes. What kind of person–no, I mean it. What kind of person feels that way about a burger? Especially from McDonald’s? Couldn’t he at least have some standards or something? He finishes the thing in three or four bites, and licks his chops–his lips, I mean, but that’s almost what it looks like, and he sits back, obviously satisfied. Hell, I didn’t even get him french fries–he’s a cheap date, at least.
“So, your story? I gotta leave here in a few minutes, so you’d better tell the fast version.”
“Oh! Oh! The story! I love the story! It’s really good, trust me. It is kinda long though, and I’m kinda bad at telling it, cause I can get a bit distracted. But look–this might seem hard to believe, but there was a time when you and I–we weren’t so different, not at all. I was wearing a suit, I wanted money, and things, and sex–everything I could get my hands on, and I thought I was happy, just like you think you are. But then I met Master Joel…and Master Joel changed everything…”
Bracken's Corner 