The Halverson Encounter
The Halverson Encounter
By Shawn Misener
I give the man Richie his change, and he glances at me, eyes wet like a puppy, wanting to say something. He wraps a fist around the neck of the brown-bagged Wildberry Green wine and deposits the thirty-two cents into his ragged army coat. His beard looks dirty, like he just crawled through a construction site flat on his face, and a bright blue rubber band dangles aimlessly from the growth, locked amazingly into place by just a couple of course red hairs. He stinks like rotten pears and moldy tapioca.
When he speaks it sounds like his vocal cords are each holding their own unfiltered cigarette, wet at the tips: â€œDid you know that some people think it’s normal to take a dump four times a day?” His words are yellow and sticky as they bubble out, barely audible.
“Really?” I say and lean in, actually somewhat amused by his random behavior. Richie never speaks, save the occasional grunts of greeting and thank you and whatnot.
“Really. I saw it in the paper. Do you believe that SHIT?” He speaks more! My lucky day at the liquor establishment.
“Oh yeah, I believe that SHIT,” I say, adopting a comedic smirk.
We laugh. My tenor laugh drowns out his whistling, weakling cackle.
When I look again at him he is suddenly dead serious. â€œDo you really believe that shit?â€ he says, eyes unwavering, still wet. â€œDo you shit that much?â€
For a moment, I think clearly and choose not to respond. But I do respond for some absurd reason. I say: â€œSometimes.â€
His face curls up into a sneer as he snatches the cheap wine substitute from the counter between us. Turning away, he laments â€œfucking faggotâ€ through his handicapped throat in a voice surprisingly loud for him. His body language as he exits through the glass door suggests that he has just given up hope on a once promising friend.
0 thoughts on “The Halverson Encounter”
You’re a great storyteller, m’man.
A great description: “He stinks like rotten pears and moldy tapioca.”
this is an interesting encounter. while seemingly common, the vulgar subject improves the shock value of such a conversation. i mean… i’m sure it makes an otherwise monotonous work day a bit more amusing. it did mine.
hilarious. moldy tapioca.
Perhaps i’m reading too much into this but I believe he took exception because of the food required to crap 4 times a day is well beyond his daily reality.
Wow, I think you figured Ritchie out, misborn. You figured him out before I did. He was an aggrivated fasting populist, not a bigot.