Monday, June 26, 2006

Borders Guy

I know of a guy who lives at Borders.

I really think he lives inside the bookstore. Seriously.

Because, he's always there no matter what time I go. If I go at lunchtime, he's there. If I go after lunch, he's still there. One time I stayed for two hours. He stayed too. What does this guy do for a living?

He's always talking to himself too. Sometimes he talks on the phone. I don't know what's he's saying. I don't listen.

He doesn't really bother anyone. He stays mostly to himself. I think he asked me for a pencil once. But other than that, he's never bothered me.

One time I was reading next to the window. Suddenly I heard this thunderous crack. The huge plastic coated poster fell from it's suction cups. The top buckled over me and wrapped me in it's fold. The bookstore bum told the manager. I kept reading. I didn't want to cause a stir.

I'd really like to ask this guy why he hangs out at the store. Maybe that'll be the subject of a future post. Maybe he kind of works there? Sort of like a mascot or something. You think?

I wonder where he sleeps? There are some exercise mats at Borders. Maybe he rolls one out at night.

It's all so puzzling.

Where is human nature so weak as in the bookstore? -Henry Ward Beecher (1813 - 1887)