That's when I knew I was dealing with a lunatic...

     Many years ago during the baby years of the store the area it's in was a vibrant and busy area. Many new guests were constantly walking into the store and numbers of truly spergian, frightening and disturbing were still very low. This gentleman that I'm about to tell you about was in retrospect the first of what I began to call wandering monsters. This is the tale of scary "dutch wear wood teeth" homeless crazy guy....
     It was early Summer on a slow Sunday afternoon , if memory serves, and the previous store owner and myself were just relaxing after a mad rush of guests and propped the front door open to let in some fresh air. My boss said that he was going to run to CVS really fast and I turned to restock some comics. "Man, don't you love nice days like this?" echoed through my ears from a voice I didn't recognize nor even knew was in the store. Panicking because you should never be in a situation where you don't know somebody is in the store with you I look over my shoulder and find crazy homeless guy sitting on a stool behind the counter where we kept the cash register. Our eyes lock and at first I have no clue where this afternoon will lead me.
     Taking a quick scan of the store I come to find that there is no one else there except for me and my new friend behind the cash register. Very confused and even more angry I ask "Is there anything I can help you find today? Also sir, I need to come out from behind the register please."
     "Not looking for anything really. Just resting for a minute. Being homeless really takes a lot of walking you know." He said with a fairly easy and oddly comforting smile. "I made some bad investments and kind of put myself in this situation."
     Strange, a rational homeless person? He has bought a minute of my time. "Well in any case I do need you to come out from behind there."
     "Sorry but this stool is so comfortable. I see there are a lot of collectible item's in here. I used to be a philatelist."
     "What the hell is going on here!" El Jeffe blurts out as he walks back into the store from his trip to CVS. My boss from here on out will be referred to as El Jeffe.
     "Dude, I don't know. He won't leave."
     Homeless guy interjects "A philatelist is a stamp collector. I had a very rare stamp that some one in Holland stole from me. That was my investment and it ruined my marriage. How can that bitch speak with her pussy like that?" ...that's when I knew I was dealing with a lunatic...as he was pointing his dirty homeless finger at El Jeffe.
     "That's El Jeffe, my boss. Not sure what your meaning dude but you really have to leave the store now."
     El Jeffe emphatically adds in "Get off the stool and out of the store right now before we have to call the police."
     As any great orator would do the Spalding Grey of the homeless world regales us with the rest of his story as if nothing is sinking into his brain..."Where I come from pussy don't talk. It bleeds or it breeds but it doesn't fucking talk. Where was I again, OH yeah stamps. So against my ex-wife's better judgment I sold everything extra we had to buy this rare stamp. You know the one with the upside down plane? It was that one and I had found a buyer for it too. Some wood toothed asshole dutch queer in Holland. Did you know all Dutch people wear wooden teeth because of getting hit for not sucking dick right? Man, I hate wooden teeth. So I mailed the stamp this this wood queer Dutch and waited to hear back. I tried a bunch of times to call him and every time it was a "wrong" number. CHRIST! (at which point he stands up and punches the counter so he kind of was doing what we wanted him to do) I just am trying to save up enough money to fly to Dutch land and kill him. I'm going to fuck him in his mouth like you should that talking pussy over there (once again clearly not understanding how to determine the sex of a homo sapian) and choke him to death with my juices! I don't care about the splinters from his queer wooden teeth!"
     After weighing the potential out comes from pointing out the story about Washington's wood teeth I choose the response of pulling a knife out of my pocket. El Jeffe picks up the phone and begins to dial what I assume to be the police's save us please number. Seeing that we have now heard his story and it was time to leave he stands up, straightens his winter parka and walks out the door muttering about talking pussy's and wooden teeth.
     I never saw him after that. My heart tells me he found his way to Holland and got the revenge he so desperately sought. Looking back I believe he was the ancient mariner to my wedding guest. Instead of bringing hope and love he taught me to hate with such irrationality that other would pull out knives. God speed you crazy asshole, god speed.