I had a two paragraph introduction that involved an Indian girl getting her diaper changed in a library bathroom while I urinated only feet away. It seemed like too much of a distraction so I’d like to get right into the purpose of today without getting too detailed into child diaper changing station etiquette.
I had a choice of two places to sit down at the library. One was next to an old woman with reading glasses and the other was next to a guy with a hat. I sat next to the older woman. Perhaps she had a granddaughter. And maybe if I’m lucky I remind her of the guy who deflowered her in 1957, Mitch Timmons. She can relive some sick vicarious fantasy through her granddaughter. That’s what caused me to sit next to the older woman. Thank goodness I’m crazy. Sitting next to hat-face might have turned out worse.
(Mitch Timmons hanging out with his boy Sticky looking cool with their tucked in shirts and hatred off all things square)
Things were going smoothly as they always go at the library. I don’t think I saw the guy who I’m convinced is a huge drug kingpin. I won’t go into exactly why I think he’s a drug kingpin because it would seem racist. I am writing a television pilot based around him though so stay tuned for that to never go anywhere. The guy with the hat whom I will from now on call Bojangles began talking to the black woman next to him. She seemed like your average black woman in her 50s. She was well-spoken, wearing a purple blouse, and was looking at pictures of Oprah online then claiming that they were the same person. Bojangles began talking to her and I heard him mention that he watched some Boy Scouts event at the mall across the street earlier. “Great, a queer” I thought. “Better get out a rope to drag him through town” chimed in a mind reader pointing out my derogatory summation.
The conversation continued and if you haven’t figured it out by the name I chose for him, Bojangles mentioned that he was a homeless. I never would have guessed it either. He seemed like any guy in a band. My guess was he was 30-years-old tops. Basically, he looked too normal to have fallen through the cracks of society. I would have guessed he worked at Hot Topic and enjoyed watching It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. For a brief moment I thought to myself we could be friends. Then he started talking and I was happy with my choice of sitting next to Murder She Wrote.
(Angela Lansbury gets off on writing about brutal murders)
Further into his life Bojangles went with the black woman. They talked about how he had made a few mistakes. He had apparently gotten with the wrong girl. Because we of course all know, whatever a woman does a man should always follow. Dating a girl and that causing you to become homeless makes you the most pussy whipped man of all time. I’ve heard of guys ditching friends or seeing bad movies for a girl, but never doing so much where it led to you becoming homeless.
Not wanting to invite Bojangles to stay with her, the black woman asked him if he had any family. He said he did but they lived in New York and he didn’t want to bother them with his problems. That makes sense. Because a family isn’t supposed to help you out with things like having a place to live. I’ve said it before, but you need to be one shitty person to not have a single family member or friend to live with. How many bodies did Bojangles have to walk over to get to this place in his life? That place being at a South Jersey library on a Sunday afternoon. You know, heaven on earth.
The black woman was so kind she offered Bojangles information on a friend of hers who might be hiring for a construction job. At least that’s what I heard. I was starting to get really angry that my mind began to drift. Bojangles complained about how his ex-landlord screwed him over and stole his computers. Now you’re getting a little too James Bond for me. If my computer was ever stolen I’d probably follow-up with a police report. I started to think Bojangles was a liar. I knew for a fact that he was a liar when he said he comes to the library to read and I saw a really nice laptop in front of him. So there’s a homeless man giving out his sob story and he owns a laptop. I think his computers weren’t the only thing stolen by the landlord. I think that greasy Italian also took Bojangles’s sense of priorities. You can live your life however you want and prioritize it in any order. For me it goes Food-Shelter-Transportation-Phone-Computer. Something like that. Maybe toss in deep personal relationships with other human beings. I’m still undecided about that one. Bojangles has really turned me off from all human contact.
(Gee, I wonder what this evil landlord is going to get Betty Boop to do to him for her late rent payment)
Like any member of the downtrodden, Bojangles had complaints about politics. He went on and on about the city of Camden. You’ve probably never been to Camden. You’re reading this which means you’re alive. It’s not a very good city. Imagine an infant shitty blood. Now make that a city. You have Camden. Bojangles also made mention of how he used to own a pizza place in 1997. Well there goes my theory of him being 30. I was 10 when he owned a pizza place. The home run record was still 61. Fight Club was only a book. Osama Bin Laden was just a lanky Arab with bowlegs. How did Bojangles through all of this away to end up in the same place as I was? There’s nothing wrong with making mistakes. Starting over is sometimes the only way to get through a difficult time. But please, spare the sob story.