Blog CemeteryElementary my dear Luigi
September 5th 2006 06:01
Once again, today’s weirdo came past me fairly early in the morning. Maybe that’s going to end up being a precedent/truism for this experiment…Weird people come out foremost at the beginning of the day. Anyway, this middle aged ethnic man came up to me at maybe 8am today. He asked if it was ok if he just stood but the window for a while and watched the shop across the road. Apparently, his son had been missing for 7 days and as he worked in the shop across the street he wanted to watch and see if he turned up for work. He then told me the kid was eighteen, his name was, oh I can't remember, lets say “Pepe” and he was “a good boy and bla bla bla”
Ya, of course he was.
And so he watched. For about half an hour. This average man, looked about fifty, in his normal, average clothes, stood by the window and just watched. He moved to the other side of the window at one stage, maybe to get a better view and then moved back closer to me again. After about half an hour or so, he said “thank you” and left.
Weird.
At first, I thought “poor man.” His son’s been missing for a week. He must be out of his mind with worry. It must be hell for a parent to go through that kind of torment. Not knowing if their kid was ok bla bla bla. But then I thought, hang on, maybe the kid just had a big blow out with his parents, nothing wrong with that. Maybe he’s sick of them interfering in his life and just wanted to be left alone for a while. Maybe the dad drinks and beats him up. Maybe they don’t approve of his lifestyle. Maybe he’s gay and they can’t accept it. Maybe maybe maybe…….
But then I thought, why doesn’t he just go into the shop and ask the people there if they have seen his son? And then tell them to let him know he was looking for him? You know, communicate. What you do is, you open your mouth and words come out and then the other person reciprocates and so on and so forth. And pretty soon you both know what the other person feels and no more words are needed and you can move on to the next thing you have to do that day.
It’s really quite simple. It’s called talking. And it’s been around for quite a while now.
Of course, the whole son story could have been baloney. I mean, the way he went on about his name and what a good boy he was. When people give you a whole heap of what seems like unnecessary info, little alarm bells go off in my head. Ok, they’re more like screaming banshees.
LIAR!!!
So I wonder what he was really doing.
After some thought, I deduced that he was a cop, part of the new deep undercover WDU (Wog Dad Unit.) And he was actually there as part of Operation Veal Tortellini. Yep, their aim was to infiltrate the drug gangs of Melbourne and nag them to death about what they were doing wrong and threaten to get their mamas out here if they didn’t clean up their act. Followed by a coupla slaps across the back of the head. No need for taxpayers’ money wasted on trials and jail. They’d be punished and rehabilitated all in one go. Because the dad’s are bad enough, but who wants their wog mum’s down there with a rolling pin to wave at you and a thousand derogatory, threatening words a minute for hours on end?
Not..a…me. Case closed.
Ya, of course he was.
And so he watched. For about half an hour. This average man, looked about fifty, in his normal, average clothes, stood by the window and just watched. He moved to the other side of the window at one stage, maybe to get a better view and then moved back closer to me again. After about half an hour or so, he said “thank you” and left.
Weird.
At first, I thought “poor man.” His son’s been missing for a week. He must be out of his mind with worry. It must be hell for a parent to go through that kind of torment. Not knowing if their kid was ok bla bla bla. But then I thought, hang on, maybe the kid just had a big blow out with his parents, nothing wrong with that. Maybe he’s sick of them interfering in his life and just wanted to be left alone for a while. Maybe the dad drinks and beats him up. Maybe they don’t approve of his lifestyle. Maybe he’s gay and they can’t accept it. Maybe maybe maybe…….
But then I thought, why doesn’t he just go into the shop and ask the people there if they have seen his son? And then tell them to let him know he was looking for him? You know, communicate. What you do is, you open your mouth and words come out and then the other person reciprocates and so on and so forth. And pretty soon you both know what the other person feels and no more words are needed and you can move on to the next thing you have to do that day.
It’s really quite simple. It’s called talking. And it’s been around for quite a while now.
Of course, the whole son story could have been baloney. I mean, the way he went on about his name and what a good boy he was. When people give you a whole heap of what seems like unnecessary info, little alarm bells go off in my head. Ok, they’re more like screaming banshees.
LIAR!!!
So I wonder what he was really doing.
After some thought, I deduced that he was a cop, part of the new deep undercover WDU (Wog Dad Unit.) And he was actually there as part of Operation Veal Tortellini. Yep, their aim was to infiltrate the drug gangs of Melbourne and nag them to death about what they were doing wrong and threaten to get their mamas out here if they didn’t clean up their act. Followed by a coupla slaps across the back of the head. No need for taxpayers’ money wasted on trials and jail. They’d be punished and rehabilitated all in one go. Because the dad’s are bad enough, but who wants their wog mum’s down there with a rolling pin to wave at you and a thousand derogatory, threatening words a minute for hours on end?
Not..a…me. Case closed.
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