Don’t befriend the crazies in your hood. Because just like “normal” people, they turn on you, only more quickly than in the office place.
Here’s how it all began:
Apparently I referred to that horribly loud woman as “crazy bitch.” He claimed some kind of bizarre ownership of this woman, so I apologized all overmyself. He acted all cool and told me his name was Irish, or Ken; he offered to walk down Franklin Place with me, no doubt with the intention of jacking me for my handycam. I gave him some M&Ms and told him to beat it. I took the Highland route home. I wonder if he really would have tried to jack me. I’ll try with all my heart to get his picture and send it to the cops on Wilcox. He probably has a dozen bench warrants. YIKES! His breath was rank with stale, cheap beer.
So as you can see, CracK Korners is a nice, sweet, cozy place, and it make an excellent hidee hole, if you should care to engage in a little, harmless naughtiness.