May I Help You?

That was my opening line….  “GO F–K YOURSELF!!!  AND F–K YOUR MOTHER TOO!!!”  OK… so this is not going to be a productive discussion….

Let me explain.  About a week ago, a Homeless Dude started sleeping on a bench outside the bank, which is at the corner of our street.  A couple of days ago, said Homeless Dude started exploring the neighbourhood – and decided inexplicably to target our house.  We live in a very distinctive looking house, in a large city, just off a main street which is on the subway line.  Very convenient for us and our kids to get around – and Homeless Dudes….  So, on this particular day, I heard a “ruckus” (that’s code for a guy yelling obscenities) in my driveway, whereupon the above “conversation” took place.  Upon realizing that nothing was going to be gained by engaging in conversation, I went back into the house and proceeded to lock it down.  As I watched and listened, he paced around the front of the house, yelled that he “did too live in this house, you f–king b–ch” and generally did not give me a sense of well being….  I called the police.

“What does he look like?”, the dispatcher asked.

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“Kind of like Santa Claus, except he’s wearing a red and white hockey jersey, dark pants and a baseball cap – and he’s extremely angry and yelling obscenities,” I say.  But he’s a dirty, nasty, belligerent Santa – like Dan Ackroyd in Trading Places!!!  (I don’t supply this helpful information to the dispatcher….)

The police came and I assume took him to a homeless shelter somewhere downtown.  But in the meantime, I tell Henry not to go out because this guy is wandering around outside our house.  No need to impress Henry with this info – his eyes are as big as saucers, and he’s pacing upstairs in his room.

Fast forward to Saturday night…. 9:45 p.m.  Homeless Dude is back and pacing outside our house again – in the middle of the street so that cars have to slow down.  Some of the drivers try to talk to him and are greeted with the same kind of scintillating conversation that I encountered on our initial meeting….  I warn our older son, who is due home from work soon to be watchful when he gets home.  Henry is pacing again – and completely pissed off – his pizza schedule has been disrupted!  Homeless Dude wanders off after yelling at the front of our house for awhile.

I’m jerked out of sleep at 2:45 a.m.  I think there is someone in our room!!!  I grab Brian’s chest hairs and yank!  (He was already awake… now he’s really awake…)  Nobody’s in our room, but Homeless Dude is standing under our bedroom window in our backyard, rambling and yelling obscenities at the top of his lungs.  I call the police again – Henry is pacing upstairs (he’s on the third floor)….  After I hang up the phone, I talk to Henry, who’s crouched and looking at me through the stair railing.

I guess the point of all this is that besides the obvious problem of these poor, disenfranchised people having nowhere to go; Henry was terrified – and we were here with him to reassure him. He’s leaving to live on his own in two weeks (granted he’s in a dorm room)…  But he was totally freaked out – how is he going to deal with the weird, wacky shit that happens from day to day on his own?  All I can think of is that scene in “Big”, where Tom Hanks spends his first night alone in New York City in some seedy hotel room, and he starts to cry and wants his Mom…..

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