Heard on the Street

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“They have no lights on their condos.” He looked intently at me.  He wanted validation and we would be best buddies. I replied: “Yes, no lights.” Always agree. Simply acknowledge. It’s a Ninja Trick when you are confronted with a feeble old grouch.  Keep Walking.

I walked passed him as he pointed over to thetiki-takiacross the street, shouting: “Why don’t you put lights on your condos…”

I was a bit baffled, I did see porch lights, and it was daylight. What kind of lights was he thinking of? This is when I wish I was a member of the Church of Who Gives A Fuck. I look back and he is still spouting off to the building as he shuffles his walker along. Did he want a neon sign? Theatre spotlights? An enema? — it would give him something else to think about.

The hooker on duty in front of the Hope for Health bar vaguely threatens some people waiting for the bus: “Don’t mess with me, I do blow jobs to get that testoster crap.” She has her hand on something in her purse. Keep walking. Where did she learn a big word like that?

Phone Jack walks stiffly and has a booming chant like an ah-uuu-ga horn: “I’m OK, I’m OK. No Gun, No Gun.” or “Dog Green Excrement Recycle.” He usually repeats everything he says at least twice. It never makes any sense whatsoever. He thinks he is invisible — No one ever notices him because he is talking on a pay-phone. Yes, shouting through a pay phone, hanging up and dialing repeatedly without putting coins in is a perfect disguise.

Nobody, but nobody, screws with Phone Jack.  Very bad Juju to screw with someone who has the intellectual skills of a Labrador Retriever.  Keep walking.

The owner of an empty lot tells me: “I’m going to put a volleyball court here, I think it would be a big hit in the Spring and Summer.” - I reply “Yes, Spring and Summer.” Simply acknowledge. It’s a Ninja Trick when you are confronted with a Business Genius. It’s the perfect idea for a lot on an industrial arterial with no parking or foot traffic.  Yup, you guessed it:  Keep walking.

I bet an enema would give him something else to think about. That ninja trick wouldn’t work on Phone Jack though.  No brains, no headaches.

Southwick walks over to me and says: “The fungus beneath our feet is a whole universe of beings.” I reply “Yes, beings." and keep walking.  He says: "The ‘shrooms want me to be their drug dealer." I reply, "Yes, dealer…Dealer? What the?” But by then, I have muffed my damned Ninja Trick and I’m trapped.

Shit, I should have talked to the shuffler guy and I would have avoided this. I say: “Are you getting fungally probed again? Are you getting high on ‘shrooms?”

Southwick replies: “No,  It’s them,theywant me to getthemhigh though. The ‘shrooms want me to be their drug dealer.”

Now that’s the craziest thing that I’ve ever heard on the street.  I got to find out more.

That’s St. John’s. Just when you thought you figured it out, there is a whole new subculture existing in a parallel dimension. 

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