Crazy Eyes

Have you ever been stared at?  Let me clarify that question...have you ever had a stare that said, "Hey bitch, I'm looking at you.  Look at me when I'm telepathically talking to you fucker."  Yeah, that stare.  That scary, creepy, "I'm gonna fucking kill you" stare. 

When I initially sat down on BART on my way home today, I felt THAT stare.  The only problem was, when I looked up, the creepy ass dude staring at me didn't take his eyes off me...for 25 fucking minutes!!!  Now I'm not talking about when someone looks at you, looks away, reads a book then looks back up at you.  Nah mother fuckers, I'm talking about when they stare at you and keep staring with those eyes that say, "I want to kill you."  I don't get intimidated very easily but for some shitty reason, this dude had me thinking and got me all worried like I should put my backpack in front of my chest so I can protect myself from being shot at.  He had me reflecting on some shit.  On life.  On what I could have possibly done for his crazy ass to be staring at me for 25 goddamn minutes.

The first question I had to ask myself because of my good looks and boyish charm was...did I bone his sister?  Cousin?  Mom?  Aunt?  Girlfriend maybe?  Nah, dude looked too crazy for me to even go near any female that would be related to this crazy sonofabitch. 

I know, maybe he knows someone I know, that he doesn't like?

I don't owe this mother fucker some money do I?

Which one of my brothers kicked this dudes ass to have me standing here ready to die from his revenge?

Maybe this crazy eyed cat is blind and he looks like he can see cause his eyes don't look all fucked up?

Like I said, he had me thinking about anything and everything.  I just wanted to get enough balls to give this sack of shit a big ass hug and $5's so he can go buy a Big Gulp at 7-11.  Hell, I'd give him enough money to buy a Big Gulp, a nudey mag and a pack of Newports if he would stop looking at me like he wanted to eat me alive.  "Why me?"  

We get to Oakland and the dude gets up and leaves.  All I could do was give him a half-ass smile (you know, the one where you look like you might cry before getting your ass whooped by your dad) because I didn't even know what else to do.

Whatever the case, that shit was not right and made me realize that maybe this dude read my blog a few days ago and thought my shit wasn't funny and offensive.  So not funny that maybe he should gaze into my eyes for 25 minutes while his veins popped out of his head as if he was either lifting more weight than he can handle on a bench press, or he was getting gang banged by Zeus and his buddies in Pelican Bay.  

I lived to tell another story about another crazy mother fucker on BART.