Doesn’t Work

I was about to cross the street at a quiet corner a few blocks from home. I would have been jaywalking, except that a tall curly-headed guy ran up in front of me and stopped just one step away. He had come out of nowhere, as they say. He quickly closed the narrow distance between us, almost brushing up against me. I took the space back again by making a half step backward. He looked me in the face and said with contempt, “This shit doesn’t work, dude!” He was referring to the little vial of clear liquid that he had just stuck up under my nose. I took a couple of more steps back, shrugging – slack-jawed and stupified. We had a three second standoff, ending when my new friend had gotten a good look at me. His agressive posture slumped and he said, “Oh. . . . I thought you were someone else.” He gave me an apologetic smile and turned to head back the way he came. I hesitated before resuming my interrupted street crossing (this time legal) and turned toward home. The two of us were walking in the same direction, on opposite sides of the street. He looked over a couple of times and said something, I didn’t hear what. About fifty yards up from the corner, he got into a sports car that had apparently been parked hastily – It was pointed against traffic and had one wheel on the curb.

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  1. What was that ‘shit’? Hair tonic? Was he balding, or bald? Perhaps it was a black market breath freshener. Did he have halitosis? People are fun and scary and sick and angels aren’t they? (rhetorical)

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