Yesterday was an eventful day to say the least.
I was working the front counter. My job sometimes requires me to take in parcels from the members of the public who want to ship their items with our organization, sell them products that we carry, and answer questions about our rates and fees. Not being much of a people person, I always find that task to be more painful and soul crushing than the backbreaking manual labor that we are asked to do in the back office. However, despite my distaste for dealing directly with the public, that job can, on occasion be pretty entertaining.
A man walked up to me. He was an adult; maybe in his forty's. A child accompanied him. I would assume he was his son. The man had car keys and a wallet with money in it. He wore a work uniform so he clearly had a job. It would appear that this person is an average, functioning, upstanding member of society and, somehow, he managed to ask me the dumbest question that I have ever been asked in the two years that I have been in my position.
"Is paper heavier when you fold it?" He and his son gazed up at me waiting for my response but I, momentarily, failed to process the stupidity of his inquiry. Surly, he must be asking if the dimensions of folded paper will effect the shipping costs, I thought. However, when I started explaining dimensional pricing to him, he confirmed my fears.
"No, but is it heavier?"
"No," I said.
The shenanigans didn't end there. I had just finished taking care of particularly angry old woman, when I noticed a, let's say, "rather large" young lady with blue hair walking up to the glass entrance wearing a mask, a not particularly long t-shirt and nothing else. I thought I must be losing my mind. Maybe she has some tiny shorts under there or at least some underwear, I assured myself but then the wind caught the light shirt and dashed my hopes of a reprieve. There was nothing on under there except for a little mismatched hair.
Who am I to spoil her fun? She didn't have anything I wanted to see all that badly but why should I rain on her weird parade? I'm not one to kink shame as long as nothing is hurt in the process and I do think life is better with a little chaos so I said nothing as she stood patiently in line.
When she came up to me, I helped her without acknowledging her nudity. I figured that would annoy her. She wants sideways looks and gasps. Giving her nothing probably stings worse than me telling her that she must put on pants before I'll serve her. However, I could not control my laughter when she turned to walk away. It came to my attention that the shirt was significantly more revealing from the back. There it was. Her whole, bare, pale, lumpy ass was on display for everyone to see!
I called up the older black woman who had stood behind the exhibitionist in line as we both watched her walk away in horror and I asked: "Am I going crazy or was that girl not wearing pants?"
She laughed and said, "That's what I thought too but I didn't want to say nothing."
I went home, thinking my stress had come to an end but I was wrong. I sat in my living room, relaxing when the literal sound of an explosion rang out to intrude on my rest. I go out front and notice the smell of smoke drifting down the street.
The garbage can was on fire a few houses down and I could hear the fire truck coming. This sort of thing should not be particularly concerning but it is the second fire to "mysteriously" start at that house this month and it just happens to belong to a family with very creepy (probably "slow") and socially awkward teenage boy.
I don't interact with my neighbors. They don't interact with each other either but we all know who this kid is. He will wonder up to us if he sees us outside. He comes and gets in the way if you try to cut your grass or wash your car on this street. Most people cut him slack because we know that he is mentally disabled in some way.
There are warning signs, though and I fear that something bad will happen before anyone does anything about him. For example, I would see him trying to play with the much younger little kids on the street, especially the little girls. They would be outside hanging out on the sidewalks every day for a while and then, suddenly, not anymore. The police pay a visit to that house every couple of weeks. I don't know who calls them or why they do it but I suspect it often has something to do with him. Now, I see two fires and an explosion at his house in a month.
As I stood, watching the firefighters put out the literal trash fire, I heard an unknown neighbor yell "It's goddamn terrifying living on this street with that kid."
I agreed and slept with my guns close at hand just in case I catch the troubled youth attempting to practice his new "hobby" outside my home in the concealment of the darkness.
Peace.
All the images are taken from the free image website, unsplash.com.