Some of you may have realized from my previous posts that I live in a mental asylum. I wasn't aware of this when we first moved in. It looked rather like a late 40's early 50's style motel. Lots of inmates have come and gone in the year and half that I've been here. My first realization this was the nuthouse was when I met Ravioli Lady and her Psycho son. I should have been keeping my blog back then, they would have provided lots of blog fodder. There has been dozens of other cast of characters which I may use to write about at some point as the mood suits me.
Today, I will write about the strange man that lives upstairs and across the way. It's ok, I'm the only one in this place he will talk to. It's not like my two neighbors who are on my FB will tell him. He moved in while Duane was in the hospital this past winter. I first noticed him when I came home late at night. He had his window open with his head stuck out looking up and down the cat walk like he was afraid someone might be coming for him at any moment. When he saw me or anyone, he ducked back inside and slammed the window.
Weird guy looks and walks just like Michael Stivic on All In The Family. If Mike did way too many drugs in the 60's and fried his brains out.
One night, after Duane came back home, I was standing out on my patio. The guy comes out and asks me if I have the time. I said, I needed to go in and look at the clock. He said, I'll come down. I wonder why he needed to come down for me to tell him the time. When I came back out he was standing on my patio. I told him the time.
Him: "I just wanted to make sure the time was right on my new phone."
Me. "Ok" (meaning I gave you the time, now go away.)
Him "I moved here a few months ago."
Me "Yes, I know."
Him "My old lady kicked me out." He moved closer and I could smell the booze on his breath.
Me: "I'm sorry."
Him "Your real nice."
Me "I need to go inside and do something for my husband now."
A couple weeks later, we had the boarder staying us. He went outside to smoke a cigarette. I went out on the patio and saw he and the weird guy sitting next to each other on my planter having a conversation. I thought they made a great pair. Not wanting another encounter, I made an excuse and went back inside. A few minutes later the boarder comes in.
Him: "Denise, you should have told me he was weird."
Me "You two seemed to be getting along."
Him "He was really weird. Next time warn me about something like that."
Me "What am I supposed to do? Say back away from the weirdo while your right next to him having a conversation."
Him "Next time warn me. Say something like, Broccoli! Broccoli!"
Me "Broccoli is the code word for weirdo. Check..... Hey Duane. Broccoli! Broccoli!"
Boarder didn't think that was funny. He's a sensitive guy and can't laugh at himself. I regularly poke him for my amusement. I'm not really a nice lady, it's just a costume I wear to fool people.
One day Duane and I are sitting on the patio when weird guys walks down the cat walk to his apartment. He was wearing a green sweatsuit.
I say, "That's broccoli."
Duane says, "Yes, I can see that. He even dresses like broccoli."
I just can't look at broccoli on my plate the same way ever again.
Happy Sunday Everyone!
5 comments:
I remember when you told me about that over the phone when I called you. I'm still laughing about it. I was also wondering when you'd post a blog about it lol.
Made me smile. We have q guy up the road who moved in during the summer, he ran after his dog and tripped over right outside our house, DH now calls him Mr Trippy when we see him!
There's a lady in my neighborhood who thinks her neighbors come through the walls into her house at night, and then operate on her brain while she sleeps. She swears her head has grown 2x as big since the man next door moved in.
You should write a book.
I'm going to have to remember that. Broccoli is so much less offensive than being overheard saying someone is completely off their rocker.
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