Part 1: In the Vomitorium

This story is a two-parter involving the same person. Part 1 takes place in the bus shelter attached to one of Winnipeg's more dubious theme attractions which I'll refer to as The Vomitorium.

It is unseasonably cold, and the huddled masses in the shelter are trying not to inhale the reeking, bile-scented air. It is the end of a long working day for me, my blood-sugar has completely crashed, and I am extremely cranky.

B.G. (making his entrance like an old-time Vaudeville performer): How many people here know me? I'm B____ G____, the radio celebrity!

To my surprise, several people actually recognize him. Afterwards, a bystander explains to me that B.G. has made several appearances on a local talk-radio show. Later, I am curious enough to phone the station, where one of the staff rather sheepishly confirms that B.G. is indeed a semi-regular if self-invited guest

B.G. (basking in the adoration and lighting a cigarette): I know folks don't always like the stuff I do, but I'm too old to care. If they say anything about it, I just give 'em s**t!
Me (feeling brave because I am half his age and twice his size): I don't care who you are; you can't smoke in here.
B.G.: And who's going to stop me?
Me: I am.

I lunge toward him, snatch the cigarette out of his mouth,toss it on the floor, and grind it out with my shoe.

B.G.: That's it! You just assaulted me!
Me: Whatever! I didn't even touch you.
B.G.: I know all about your kind; you're one of those HOMOSEXUALS! Ihave a gun at home. You better not come back here, or I'll be waiting for you.
Me: Do you realize you have just threatened my life in front of thirty witnesses?
B.G.: It's your own fault. You assaulted me! I'm calling the police!
Me: Be my guest. I'm sure they'll be especially interested in the part where you tell them about the gun.

Continued in part 2.




-thanks to j.d. for the contribution