1.23.06

Category: dribblings

have i told you guys about Hobo John? i don’t think i’ve mentioned him on here before. i met Hobo John a couple of months ago. he was walking by my house and he stopped and talked to me for a bit. he’s been by a couple more times and from what i can gather he lives a couple blocks down the street. the first time i met him he seemed kinda sweet and harmless. the next time was a bit creepy. the time after that was creepier. he asked personal questions like, “do you live here alone?”
why i didn’t lie and say, “no, i’m married to a giant muscle man and a bull dyke,” i’ll never know. that would’ve chased him away for sure. today? well, today he was creepiest. but in that sweet way.

i know, you’re thinking, “what? creepy in a sweet way? is he goth?”

no, he’s not goth. he’s just…slow? ish? he’s simple i guess. but also? he’s 7 feet tall and could probably kill me with his bare hands.
and see, that’s what bothers me. he DEFINITELY puts off that Lenny vibe. he seems sweet and childlike and innocent and completely capable of accidently killing me while trying to touch my hair.
por exemplo: this evening i was outside cutting up a huge box and putting it in the garbage can because tonight is GARBAGE NIGHT. woot! and here comes Hobo John. he stops and says, “hi, jaimie.” and so i say, “hi, john.” because i totally would not call him Hobo John to his face. in fact, he looks nothing like a hobo. he looks exactly like a lumberjack. but Lumberjack John is a ridiculous nickname.
like Hobo John isn’t?

anyway, i didn’t feel too vulnerable this time because i had a knife in my hand. last time he came around it was dark out and i’m an idiot for talking to him in the first place but i just can’t be mean to people, okay? so yeah, last time it was weird and i thought, “wow, so this is how i die, huh? Hobo John wants to pet my dogs (he loves the dogs. and i know i shouldn’t let him pet the dogs because he’ll probably end up smothering them, but anyway, you try telling a giant no.) and he’s going to accidently snap my neck like a twig. great.”
obviously that didn’t happen. and i lived to tell another Hobo John Tale, which i would finish telling you about if i could quit interrupting myself.

so then he asks, “do you still have a boyfriend?”
“yes, john, i do.”
and then he, and i swear, he yelled, “DANG IT!”
i was a bit startled. but i continued to cut up the box as if nothing amazingly insane was going on. he was quiet for a bit and then said, “if it weren’t for bad luck i’d have no luck at all.”
no shit. he said that. what, exactly, are you supposed to do in situations like this? you want to know what i did?
i tried to contact Mr. Fleegan through telekinesis. jimmy? jimmy, can you hear me? jimmy come home! Hobo John is about to kill me and IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT! jimmy? jimmy! if i live through this we are SO PRACTICING telekinesis when you get home! you hear me?!

Hobo John then asked me a few creepy questions about my electric fence (how best to breech it. what?!) and then he said, “well, if things don’t work out… i’ll be around.”
what. great. that’s what i need. my very own lenny.
perfect. “tell me about the rabbits, jaimie.”

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