Evenings at the Big D Ranch lately have been spiced up lately by some really high-quality crazies.
First there’s Grizzled Prospector Man. He has a mop of gray hair, a scraggly beard, bad teeth, and a too-friendly grin. He always wants a cigarette from whomever’s smoking, but it gets worse. He then wants to sit down and join the conversation, which he will enrich with inappropriate laughter, long red-eyed stares, and 2 minutes straight of grinning and nodding.
Much more frightening is Twitch ‘n’ Stare, who’s been there at least the last two nights. He’s about 40, very tan, short hair, dark eyes and hair. He appears to be tweaking pretty severely and is restless to the point of violence. He picks up a chair and walks about with it, sits, smokes, watches the TV inside the Napa from outside, goes from table to table. Occasionally he’ll say something or try to break into a conversation like GPM above, but with a bouncy, angry edge to him, as though he’s torn between twin desires to say howdy and to slit your throat.
The other night as I was going to my car he cruised by and leered out of his car, sending beams of demonic energy directly into my eyes and paralyzing me like a deer.
I’m afraid, Mommy.