Last night... Beginning: why are all of the pretty ladies cooking?. Hes standing in a fire lane, behind my open-air kitchen. Middle: Walks to front of house, hits head on sign repeatedly, starts talking literal gibberish, takes out a pile of crumpled money (mainly large bills) after scaring the shit out of me slowing reaching into pockets going is the money in thissss pocket End: I tell him that this is my house & I dont need his money that bad & I kick him out. He storms off & the farmers market staff (kudos to them) makes sure hes gone. He was young, very attractive, white, and either seriously mentally ill or high on something that was not weed. Or both. Crazy & crack do not discriminate. Not looking for sympathy or high fives, just like to share what its like out there sometimes.
Posted on: Fri, 21 Nov 2014 18:16:46 +0000
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