Mommy, It’s a Bad Man

The other day in the supermarket we saw a very disturbing man. Now, I lived in Los Angeles for over a decade, and normal crazy people don’t bother me; you sidestep the ones who seem potentially dangerous or in-your-face annoying, and otherwise they’re just part of the scenery. This guy was different…I got an immediate, visceral reaction to him, rather like a small woodland critter must feel when a lethal predator walks by.

He was full of odd contrasts…glowering Lance Hendrikson face, matted hair, absolutely filthy tracksuit and trainers with a very good, expensive, immaculate wool overcoat. Without making eye contact or doing anything odd, he just radiated danger and bad will. Why the filthy clothing and the clean coat? Why greasy hair and clean hands and nails?

He’s stuck with me, and I keep wondering what his story was. I pointed him out to Phil, very surreptitiously, afraid that the man would notice. He felt that dangerous, that you didn’t want him to catch you looking at him.


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