A couple years ago on the August long weekend a friend and I went dancing at a ratty Queen Street West dive, which will remain nameless… We had an ok time. It was one of those nights when you realise that you need to stop trying to have fun doing the things you did at age 21. Partying with strangers, it just ain’t gonna work no more. She’s broke and don’t need no stinkin’ fixin’.
Toronto was in the middle of yet another smog/heat wave, so we decided to try and cool off with long walk back to my pad in the annex. Quite a walk at 2 in the morning for sure.
As we neared my house, we noticed a completely naked dude (no shoes, nothing, willy blowing in the wind) in the bushes. We blew past him and looked to each other for affirmation. Did we really just see a naked guy in the bushes? Yup, we both saw the naked guy.
We trotted along towards my place, now only two blocks away. My friend bravely turned around to look to see where the creepy naked was guy and she reported back that he was now tailing us. Shit.
“He looked away and pretended he wasn’t following us.”
Our brisk trot turns into a gallop. Out comes the cell phone, time for 911.
Part Two coming in the next couple o’ days.