Untitled Document #11

When I woke up this morning, I had this sudden and insatiable urge to go out to the park. I suppose my mind decided that sitting on a bench under the sun was better than sitting on a couch in front of the UV rays of a television. It wasn’t even a particularly warm day outside; the air had an ever-present chill stalking me. My only protection was a light jacket with a coffee stain on the left cuff. Hopefully nobody would notice that.

The park by my house was fairly dull. The grass was well kept and immaculately watered. Two benches. Four stone tables covered in magic marker graffiti spreading the word of the Insane Clown Posse. Three garbage cans that were never full, since people preferred leaving their waste in a two foot radius around the cans instead. This was really just a place to walk your dog or make a drug deal that lacked of subtlety, nothing more. Why I wanted to come here, I’ll never know.

The Incident occurred roughly ten minutes after my arrival. A young man with an acoustic guitar approached me.

“Hey man! I’m so glad I ran into you! Would you like to hear a song?”

“Uh, no thanks.”

I was wary. This wouldn’t be the first time a stranger offered to play music for me. Just about every homeless person in the bustling nightclub district could be found abrasively strumming on a set of strings and yelling barely comprehensible lyrics that sounded like they were quoted from the Necronomicon. I didn’t bring my wallet, nor did I feel like giving away free money today. Before I could awkwardly turn and walk away, the two of us were surprised by a young lady, who couldn’t have been any older than sixteen, running towards us.

“Oh my God, it’s you!” She yelled to the young man. “I’m, like, your biggest fan! Can I get an autograph?”

The suddenly-popular singer cocked his head back like a maniacal villain and laughed. “Don’t you know who I am!? You can’t just ask me for an autograph! Ha! I’m a man who can sign an autograph in twenty-seven different ways, getting the right autograph out of me is quite tricky.”

The young lady looked at me with a quizzical look. This look then quickly changed to a nice mix of disgust and a wordless desire for me to leave, so she can have this man all to herself.

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