Luckily I just walked past a guy on the street who yelled out
'Hey! I'm A Christian!'.
I pretty much thought 'Good for you.' and kept walking, and then he yelled it again. So I thought
'This is getting pretty annoying now.'
And then guess what? He yelled it again, and I thought
'Who gives a flying crap. I dont walk down the road telling people that I have brown hair.'
And then he yelled it out again, but by then he was getting a bit further out of earshot so it started to become less annoying so I thought:
'Ha. This is kind of funny now, that idiot has just yelled out 'Hey! I'm a christian' five times in a row, I wonder how many more times he will yell that out.'
And then I felt like turning around and following him to see how many times he was going to say it before he stopped.
So I did.
After following him down the road for about ten minutes and counting him yell out
'Hey! I'm A christian!' 33 times I got pretty pissed off because I realised I had been walking the wrong way for ten minutes and had totally forgotten to go to my haircut appointment. Which is where I was heading when I first met that Christian.
I couldn't really be bothered turning around and walking back up the hill so I i texted my hairdresser to tell her I was hungover and couldn't make it to the haircut. This was much easier than having to explain to her via text message that I had been following a guy yelling out 'Hey! I'm A Christian'.
Because I was pretty bored I decided to go and look at the book shop, but after I had flicked through some magazine called Cowboys And Indians with Tom Selleck on the cover there was nothing good left there to look at,
so I went into a shop called Knuckle Sandwhich to buy some food, purely because the name is brilliant. The food was 'ok', but it was worth it just to have dined there. Even though the woman who served me didn't really have a clue about anything I had to ask her.
'Hello, welcome to Knuckle Sandwich how can I help you?'
'Hi. I would like a sandwich with lamb and also all the main vegetables. How many sauces are you allowed?'
'Two. Or you can pay an extra fifty cents per extra sauce.'
'Oh yeah. That is pretty standard with sauces really isn't it?'
'I'm not sure.'
'Well that is mainly the way these days isn't it? Two sauces for free etc?'
'Sorry, i don't really know.' She smiled nervously. Maybe because I was wearing my summer trenchcoat I suppose and asking about the sauces. But it was still pretty annoying she wasn't on my W.L (wavelength, or wave-o for short)
'Well I would like mint sauce and also some mayonnaise.'
'Ok that will be 8.50 thank you, would you like a drink?'
'I am ok thanks. If you guys served milkshakes then I would order one. Not many places serve milkshakes anymore do they?'
'I'm not sure.' Nervous laughter. I wanted to say 'Quit it with the nervous laughter.' but instead I said
'Knuckle Sandwich is a great name for a sandwich shop. That is the reason I came in here, I wasn't even really hungry to be honest. Who came up with that name 'Knuckle Sandwich' for this sandwich shop?'
'I'm sorry I really don't know. There is more than one Knuckle Sandwich, so maybe the guy who started the Knuckle Sandwich chain.'
Well if I was that guy who had come up with the name Knuckle Sandwich for all these sandwich shops I would have felt like giving this girl a knuckle sandwich for being my employee and not knowing my name.
She was polite, but so uninformed and complacent that I was inspired to take my sandwich elsewhere to eat it. AKA Walking down the road dropping a couple of pieces of coleslaw on the concrete and then kicking them to the side of the pavement.
'This sandwich is ok. But not great.' I thought to myself and then decided I would hail a cab when I had counted that I had walked 150 steps closer to my destination (which would have saved me about 20 cents, give or take a cent or two) on my cab fare.
My cab driver was pretty amazing, as many taxis drivers tend to be. The name on his taxi driver identification card on the windscreen was 'Malcol' . I assumed that it was short for Malcolm as many taxi driver IDs seemed to have letters cut off the end of their names, but just in case it was his real name I called him Malcol. After we broke the ice with the main questions (Who has your day been mate? What time did you start? What time do you knock off? Have you been busy? Must be awesome when you get called to take someone out to the airport?) we got to talking like two interested in each other human beings.
'So, Malcol, how often do you guys get to renew your identification cards?'
'Around once every five years.'
'That's pretty good I suppose.'
Then I looked out the window at some rollerbladers and cursed myself again for not carrying my slingshot with me at all times. Especially since two of them were holding hands so i could have aimed for where their fingers were linking.
Soon enough I was home, and Malcol rounded down on how much I owed him. So I gave him a tip of around one or two dollars and said
'Thanks a lot Malcol' and closed the door.
Then I walked inside and looked on Facebook and saw my friend had written on his page:
'I saw a goat's dick and now I can't stop thinking about it.' Which I thought was admittedly pretty funny.