Yesterday, at BECU, Andy and I overheard an old man in a wheelchair chatting with a clerk about his business plan. His name was Addleman. Full name, potentially Addleman Addleman. We'd observed him entering it for both 'first name' and 'last name' in the self-service check-in before wheeling over to the waiting area.
Addleman was applying for a business bank account and explaining the nonprofit he was planning to start—a segregated community for sex offenders. How it would work is that sex offenders would no longer sit in prisons wasting tax payer's precious money (we foot the bill for their food, their healthcare, everything!), but instead they would be sent to live in a quarantined colony of other sex offenders, forced to create their own economy and societal structure with help from the nonprofit's donated funds.
"I don't expect it to be successful in my lifetime," Addlman told the clerk. Not a ringing endorsement, but you have to respect the honesty.
Old man in wheelchair story #2
This morning Andy caught a bus from 3rd Ave and James St. It was due at 12:28pm, so at half past when it hadn't arrived, he started to worry.
Suspecting he may have jotted down the times wrong, he walked over to the side of the bus stop to view the scheduled stops. An old man in a wheelchair was positioned in front of the timetable, forcing Andy to stand to the side and lean across to check the times.
"GET THE F--K AWAY FROM ME!" the man shouted.
"Sorry, I'm just trying to view the bus times," Andy said.
"OH, SORRY MAN! I'M JUST RURRRL PARANOID."
"Er, no problem"
Just then, the bus arrived. Both Andy and the man in the wheelchair got on. He apologized again. "SORRY ABOUT THAT MAN. YOU KNOW, JUST PARANOID!"
Andy accepted his apology and all was forgiven.
In related news, isn't life interesting?
Goodnight,
Margaret
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