i had just pulled into a mint parking space in the lot in front of my apartment and jumped out of ruby when i was accosted by creepyguy, the father of creepyboy.

i tried valiantly to just sort of smile in his general direction and hustle it over to the passenger side to gather up my groceries. sadly, that didn’t work at all.

“that’s a nice truck,” he said.
“thanks, i love it,” i said and tried to look like i was in a great, big rush.
“i’ll trade you my car for your truck,” he said.
“uh, not thanks i really love it.”
“c’mon, i’ll trade you my car AND my van for your truck,”
“hehehe,” i said for lack of anything better to say to such inane small talk. see, his car is a turquoise ford tempo and the van is rust. in fact, i’ve never actually seen the van move in the year since creepyguy and fam moved in.

of course if my pathetic giggle were the end of this excruciating exchange then well, you wouldn’t be hearing about it. but NOOOOOooooOOO. he had to go on and on and on and on.

i heard all about some little chevy truck (ruby’s an S10) he had like 498 years ago, and then i had to hear about some wretched car accident involving him, someone named elizabeth and someone else named laura, then i got hear about how he can’t afford to buy a new car because he’s got to save up for a wedding and to pay for the flight for his fiancee to actually move here, i also got to hear about how he expects a giant tax check in a few months because he cashed in his 401K and had it taxed at 45%, so even though he was penalized 20% when he cashed it in early, he should still be getting a big check and maybe then he might think about getting a new car, but don’t tell his car that.

yeah.

and i thought my run-ins with his son creepyboy were bad.

creepyboy might be “special.” i can’t quite tell. i know that he gets picked up by a minivan to go to school. creepyboy likes to say things when he sees you like “oh, i was just thinking about you!” he likes to ask me about my favorite bands (none of which he’s heard of) and what i think of the insane clown posse. of course he can’t pronounce posse and calls the band insane clown posie. creepyboy asks about whether i have a boyfriend or not, if i live alone and my cats.

blech!