solidsnake101023 said:
What have been some of the oddest/most bizzare/creepiest people you've ever encountered? i know a person who runs around my school with knifes and a variety of sharp things
The Ballad of Psycho Al
Mike and I were fast friends. He moved into the same complex as me within a couple of days, two doors down. He got off work about a 1/2 hour before I did each night, and he had a Tivo back when those were still novel, so we'd watch the bullshit shows he wanted to watch (The Apprentice and The Real World) while we Tivo'd adult swim. I'd usually bring over a 12 pack and sometimes we'd order sandwiches. Just sort of our ritual.
I knew that Mike used to use drugs but he hadn't elaborated and I'd never asked. I did not know on this occasion that he was tweaking (he still acted 'normal'). I was watching Futurama, sitting in his comfortable lounge chair while mike sat at his computer desk in his efficiency apartment, trying to download drivers to fix Windows on his computer. he did this calmly the whole night. Mike said to me at one point, "I just wanna let you know, Alan's coming over later." I'd heard Mike and Amanda (another neighbor) talk about Alan but hadn't paid much attention. The way Mike said it sounding cautionary.
"And?"
Snicker.
"You'll see."
Smile.
Not long after Family Guy came on, we heard a knock at the door, followed by an over-the-top, flamboyant "Oh, Mike-ee-poooh!"
Jokingly, I turned to Mike and said "Ah, man, you didn't tell me your friend was gay! I totally don't care!" Not looking up, Mike muttered "That's not it..."
After about eight minutes of this, I asked if this guy was going to go away. "Prob'ly not." And are you going to open the door? "...nope." So you're just going to tolerate this all night. "Looks that way."
"I'm going to answer the door."
"You do so at your own peril." Another snicker.
I opened the door.
"HiI'mAlan,nicetomeetya!" Before me stood a middle aged man, short, squat and fat, with bottleneck serial killer glasses and a dingy baseball cap under which messy Mediterranean curls spilled out, a plain T-shirt that probably used to be white, and cutoffs that reminded me of the "never nude" David Cross scenes from Arrested development. Shackled to his ankle, one of his signature trademarks, was the leash to his hound dog Sally (who would later die under mysterious circumstances. Stop looking at me like that, all of this is true!).
A bit of background on Alan. He is full-blooded Iraqi, arch-conservative, blames all of society's ills on (his words, sensitive responders, his words) "the fags, spics and niggers" and thinks calling himself a "sand ******" (my, how creative racists are!) is the cutest thing in the world. He is a meth dealer (Mike's, as it turned out), one who abuses his own product, forces his way into the lives of everyone of his neighbors, and very quickly ends up waging war on every single one of them. He is impossible to have an actual dialogue with. If you try to reason with him regarding a point on which you do not agree, he will quite literally scream you down and tell you that you are selfish, conceited, and "an imp." (Wish I still had the voicemails). Many months after this incident, while Amanda and I were dating, we stepped outside for a cigarette before bed and saw Alan, shirtless in February at 1am, Sally still shackled to his ankle, swinging a baseball bat from hand to hand. Apparently another neighbor had threatened him. It took us 45 minutes to get away from Alan. And none of this is what REALLY makes him creepy.
When I let him in, Alan went for the chair I'd been sitting in. After an akward pause, I let him have it. I asked Mike if I can sit on his bed and watch Family Guy. Alan responded with a gay joke, presumably to show how classy he was. Mike remained detached and focused on his computer. Alan proceeded to slander numerous new neighbors I hadn't yet met. I had to pause the TV a half dozen times. I was fed up.
"So, whatcha got there?" He'd brought in what appeared to be a DVD. Now, keep in mind the only light was coming from the TV and the small lamp in the corner. Alan flipped on the light and handed me the movie.
I don't even know how to describe this. Alan, as it turns out, could win Jeopardy! if they had a Pornography edition. He was a very enthusiastic fan of all things smut. The cover of the porn looked normal enough: a few very attractive women on a runway. And on the back, all kinds of twisty-turny-stretchy-outy things that I would rather not be looking at with other men. Strange things, if I may be so bold. Bondage things, anus things. Alan opened the case up for me. It was a 4-disc boxed set. The movie itself was apparently over 4 hours long - the Dances With Wolves of porn, apparently. There was a special features disc and a disc for the soundtrack. Mr. Alan was bumping his porno tunes while he rolled into the 'hood, apparently. He made a point of leaving the $100 price tag on, so that everyone he showed it to would know that he spend one hundred dollars to jerk off.
Then, without preamble, he put the damned thing in Mike's DVD player. He switched the channel, picked up the DVD remote and turned it on. Mike kept stealing glances at me and laughing. Alan was obsessed with "easter eggs" which was a cute little bonus the producers would sometimes include in the movies - little hidden goodies like a breakdown of a chase sequence. In this case, it was a blonde in lingerie singing "Like a Virgin" and spanking the grip guy.
"No wait, I got another one!" Easter Egg #2 was a woman shoving a dildo the size of an eggplant up her ass. I already despised this guy. But he wouldn't stop.
Alan put on the main movie and showed us the commentary track. I must admit, hearing one of these for a porn was initially amusing.
"So I fisted her here, but we decided to take it out, y'know, not because anyone made us, I mean LEGALLY, but we just wanted to avoid the scenario, since this is such a"
Once the hardcore antics began to ensue, I decided I would not endure anymore. We can talk matter-of-factly about this sort of thing, but to do so at the same time as watching it happen, with a stranger no less, could only be a pretense for something homosexual or something sociopathic, neither of which I had any interest in. Then Alan gave me an out - an opportunity to insult him.
He kept talking about talking about his vast knowledge of porn. He knew the names of all the actresses, and expected me to as well. He knew the names of the male "actors," the directors, even the producers. At one point, he was talking about some starlet and he used the words "I've been following her career for some time."
A little thing about me I think you should know. There have been few, precious few times in my life where I've been faced with a choice, and if I make the wrong decision, I may be killed, maimed, fired or dumped. Usually, if I think it will be funny, I do it anyway. Fortune has smile on me here.
"Has her husband told you to stop calling yet?"
Alan looked genuinely wounded. He gave me this look, like some sort of appeal. I didn't budge. The movie came off.
