I have been a wee sleep deprived this week. Thus I am not thinking as clearly as expected. I was waiting at the Transfer Center this morning for the 48 to arrive. When it did, Bob got off. As usual, he walked past me and waved. As usual, I ignored him. He started to walk away, turned around and came back. He was standing in front of me waving at me again. I shouted. "Leave me alone!" He starts to walk off then turns around again. I shouted, "I don't want to be your friend, you freak." He finally walked off.
There are two possible outcomes in this situation. Number One. He never so much as looks at me again. Number Two. The FBI finds my severed head in his green recycled Harris Teeter tote bag and my naked taxidermied body in his living room.
It rubs the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again.