Crazy comes again

It was a day unlike every other. Meaning, it was a day that some sort of shit would hit the fan in a dramatic way. Nothing is simple with me, even though I try to keep clean from all the messiness.

**

After I finished lunch C, we were both walking down the street and almost bump into some idiot who flings out of a sex shop onto the sidewalk. And that's when I notice who it is: Crazy. Fat like before, wearing too-tight pants and an expression of embarassment from being caught sticky handed.

What I found ironic about this sighting was the big bag he was carrying; someone spent some cash (which is hilarious for a sexual hypocrite).

I tell C about my history with the lunatic. He's in shock, as is everyone who hears about it. How can someone be so cruel, verging on sociopathic? Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Crazy.

When I get home, I drop off my things at the door, grab something to drink and check my messages. There are two. One is from a long-term friend of mine and the other is from Crazy. Fun. As much as I want to outrun the fucker, he always manages to speed up ahead of me...

Hey!
Good to see you today. I would have said hi but I didn't want to interrupt!

Take care!
[Crazy]

Do I really have to deal with this, again? Ugh. Why can't some people leave things alone? Or, even better, why can't they leave me alone? The harassment is bothersome, to say the least. It's just some shit I have to clean up at the end of the day. A little bleach on the brain never hurt anyone.