A trip on the 62 to Fort Richmond from work, which was downtown. The trip started out as an uneventful trip home, looking forward to a boring evening after a day at an awful job.
At the confusion corner stop, a young gentleman gets on the bus. A young, skinny, greasy gentleman. When gazing at him, you'd hear your inner voice screaming "NEEEEEEEEEERD!". You know the type.
Our subject pays his fare and sits down. Next to me, of course. He pulls his legs up to his chest in a fetal position then starts rocking back and forth, and accompanies this with the loudest stage whisper I've ever heard: "I'm a wizard! Fireball! Fireball!".
It was a long day at, as I mentioned, a terrible job and I was in no mood for the antics. This prompted me to make my music louder; unfortunately, I didn't hear the rest of what he was saying.
I figured it would be best to follow half of Bill Clinton's advice. I didn't ask, but I sure told everyone about it.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
This comes from Randy: