I know this will sound strange—especially since it’s coming from me—but when does weird cross the line?
A few months ago, I was walking the dog, pretty much minding my own business, and here comes this kid walking down the sidewalk toward me… pulling a shoe. Yep. This young fella was probably ten or eleven years old—normal-looking, nice-looking young man—and he had a rope tied to a shoe, and he was dragging the shoe along behind him. The shoe was flopping and bouncing around, and it was, to say the least, a comical sight.
I smiled at him and said, as if I saw such sights every day, “Walkin’ your shoe?”
“Yep,” was all the answer I received; no smile; no look of don’t-be-a-smart-ass-old-man; just yep, and he walked on by.
I had to laugh, as myriad thoughts went through my mind, trying to figure what the boy was up to. It was, after all, something I might have done when I was his age. Hell I might’ve even done it now, if I’d thought of it first.
Anyway, I forgot about it—didn’t even remember to tell Sherry—and probably would have never given it another thought. If… I hadn’t seen him again.
Sure enough, I was walking the dog again about a month ago, and here comes the same kid, pulling, what I assume was, the same shoe. He paid no attention to me this time, and I asked no questions. I did, however, turn and watch him go on down the sidewalk, the shoe bouncing—quite happily, I thought—along behind him.
That’s when the question hit me: when does weird cross the line into – perhaps-someone-should-call-the-authorities?
I haven’t seen the kid since–or… at least if I did, he didn’t have the shoe with him.
Read Part two —> Walk A Mile With My Shoe
Read Part three —> Bring it, Scuff Boy!