Those People

Today this old fat man came in looking for the Buffoon. I told him the Buffoon was not in the office, but the fat man hardly listened. He said that he just wanted to inform me that he was back from Boston and would be in town for a little while. As I was wondering why in the fuck he thought I cared or needed to know this information, he sat down and began his tangent, “It’s nice to be back in the South where even though there are problems, we don’t go out of our way to create problems. Up in Massachusetts, there are too many liberals runnin’ things. They elect these women politicians, these women who marry other women, you know?” I nodded, not in agreement, but, to simply confirm that I understood what he was implying. “They don’t have any business runnin’ things and yet they are controllin’ everything.”

The fat man then glanced over his shoulder at the Indian man in the lobby and then turned back to me with a look of disdain. He continued, “And you know what happened with the New York governor don’t cha’? He started out as Attorney General and was bustin’ these insurance companies like AIG and whatnot, and then used that momentum and got himself elected governor. A little while later they catch him down in DC with a bunch of hookers. So he steps down and you know who they appoint? The second guy in command who happens to be a BLIND, BLACK man who was worthless. They’d been better off appointin’ a door mat.”

Once he finished, the fat man sat back in the chair and eye-balled me. He continued to sit there and stare, waiting for me to respond. We sat in silence. I didn’t know what to say or how I could get him to leave. I had no opinion on New England’s lesbian politicians nor did I care who was running New York. After what had to have been three or four full minutes, he asked, “Well, what do you think about that?”.

“Not much.”, I replied.

I could tell this bothered him. I realized that he thought I’d been using these last few minutes to manage my rage and formulate a bigoted response. He began to shake his head at me, so that I knew he was disappointed. After another minute, I tried to wrap-up our little interaction and threw out, “Well, what are you gonna do?”. My hope was that he would recognize this rhetorical question as the conclusive statement it was intended to be. He did not.

“Exactly. What ARE we gonna to do?”. He looked a bit more crazy now and I was even more confused as to what the fuck he was getting at.

“Nothing.”, I said.

“Nothin’, huh?. You ain’t gonna to do nothin’.”, he replied with that same look of disappointment.

By now I was actually becoming a little curious. “What are you gonna’ do?”, I asked, eager to hear his plan.

“You don’t wanna know.”, he said.

“Actually, I really do want to know”.

“Well, you don’t need to know. How about that?”, he said. He then got up from the chair and walked out, but not before giving me one more dagger stare of disappointment.

I didn’t know what to do after that. I really was curious as to what that codger was thinking and wondered whether he was just old and racist or had a larger agenda. For all I knew, he was going to report back to his Grand Wizard or local militia that I wasn’t on board with the plan. Another fabulous day.