It was late and I wanted a smoke (I know, I know—I should quit) but the urge was too great, so I took a seat on the patio and inhaled the sweet relief of nicotine and early onset lung cancer. I usually don’t sit on the porch late at night, as the wafting smoke tends to attract stragglers who can’t afford the obscene price of a pack these days. But little did I expect to see you out of the corner of my eye, trudging along at a slow enough pace to suggest you were in a trance. I didn’t think much of it until there was a lightning-quick flick of your hand, and then another. I peered in close and realized I wasn’t hallucinating—you were actually wielding a set of nunchucks. I never thought much of “scared straight” tactics, but for at least one night you got me to quit real quick and go back inside.
I Saw You is an anonymous “man on the street” column. Email your rants and raves about co-workers or any badly behaving citizens to [email protected], or send to 380 S. First St, San Jose, 95113. Submissions should stick to about 100 words.
