Thursday, August 9, 2007

Da Iceman

In honor of my buddy Max tying the knot, I am custom creating a special haiku in order to contribute to the nuptials:

Max's Married!

Max got hitched, congrats!
Funny, I'd pegged him as gay
screw it I still do

Iceman pt. 2

The Iceman was one sick sucka. I think he was bipolar, and from some of the conversations some of the security guards have had with him he seemed to be kind of like Dave Chappelle's rendition of Lil' John, acting all crazy and then without warning being completely serious and giving up thoughtful little tidbits that made you wonder if he really was all that insane, until you looked down and realized he had masturbated all over your new slacks while you were thinking.

"What's this fascination with jerkin' it, Stevester?" you might be asking. Well I can't hear you because I am not in the computer. I will tell you, however, that Iceman had a knack for ruining people's day with his self-love sessions. I worked the night shift, and so only saw him sitting over on the wall facing the building we worked in once or twice when I had to work a double, but the other guards would tell me of times when he would be sitting there, calm and serene, quietly waiting for the many lawyers and dentists and professional people to start filtering in, intent on putting their nose to the grindstone in order to scrape enough money together to get that tummy tuck/ boob job so they could be the envy of the country club. He would then whip out his smelly man-beef, and start milking it for all it was worth furiously, sometimes inexplicably wearing a sock over his hand (maybe so he could pretend it was a stranger?) but always with this evil little grin on his face, trying to make eye contact with anyone he could.

There were other things the Iceman did that were nasty, but then again some of the other bums (not homeless, most of them wanted to get to a mission and try to get on their feet; these guys enjoyed being bums) did sick stuff too. Iceman assumed he was a prostitute for awhile, at least that's what he frequently told us, and was seen often wearing daisy dukes and a cut off halter top looking thing, sometimes wearing lipstick and some high heels, his sweat-drenched hairy chest and underarms emitting an odor that I'm told would be normal for some parts of New York.

Most of the bums also showered in the fountain in the park, some wearing only their skidmarked underwear, which to me was somehow worse than them being naked. There was a little troop of like 5 bums that we would call the "Bumcorp", and though there were oftentimes more than that those 5 were always hanging out together, I would like to think sharing handout money and sipping off of the same fine Thunderbird wines they would procure.

In the Summer they would get cardboard boxes, some blankets from the Salvation Army truck, and make what I swear would look like a little fort in the park, and someone would bring in a tiny black and white tv (The park has electrical outlets, presumably for concerts and stuff, though the only concert I ever saw was some christian rockfest, which was the most frightening fucking thing I had ever seen in my life) and the bums would gather around and do each other's hair (no joke) while watching Jerry Springer. You could hear them hooting "Jerry! Jerry!" along with the crowd on the television. Those were good times.

There was also this guy who I will call Garret. Garret was one of the nastier bums, in that he was a little more active in the prostitution racket than Iceman, who wore the uniform but we never saw him clocking in, if you know what I mean. There were stories of Garret being caught in some of the unlocked stairwells in the building, used condoms laying in a shitty halo around him, a small line of men waiting to pound his monkey hole. I know, I know, it sounds unbelievable and completely disgusting, and I would not have believed it either, but I saw him get on the elevator in the parking garage with another bum and not come back off for about 5 minutes, at which time he was pulling his pants up and the other bum was doing the same... *shudder* that's friggin gross.

I am not completely sure it if it was Iceman or Garret, but the final straw I think occurred one fine October morning in 2004. We had to go to these mandatory meetings in order to get our checks, and though I could not stand them there was free breakfast so what the hell. Well I showed up and there was a bunch of commotion going on in the park across the street. I asked Big Mike, probably one of the top 5 coolest guards ever (he was like 6'6, 350 pounds and looked mean as hell but was hilarious, kind of like me but with muscles, not man tits) what was going on. It seems a couple of bums had gotten tired of people telling them to get jobs and quit polluting the fine downtown area with their homely faces and smelly bodies. So they had waited, one bum laying strategically on a bench lengthwise with his feet resting on the ground, the other bum milling around seemingly just like any other day. As people started filing into the building, the bums sprang into action, the bum on the bench yanking his jeans and panties down and lifting his legs, the other bum detrousering and sliding his manbeef into the other bum's turd-cavern. What's funny about this is Mike said a couple of people watched for a good 20 seconds or so before coming across the street to complain to us, and even funnier it was out of our jurisdiction so we could do nothing about it but call the cops.

I would have liked to have been there when the cops showed up to break up the bum's creation of poopchowder, if only to see how they got them to stop (I would have swung my nightstick into the standing bum's smelly ass, but that's just me). I mean, you really don't want to touch these guys, but with people standing around complaining (and yes, still watching) you gotta do something!

Don't be late Monday, I am going to do what will probably be a week long miniseries: Crack, and how it affects everyone. Congratulations Max, really. See you lovebirds tonight!

No comments: