George Wallace, a renowned Bigot

Tuesday at the Office

A tall nondescript man about my age strolls pass my table and reaches the empty table next to where Hector is sitting. He means to sit down but Hector objects.

“Don’t sit here. Sit over there.”

Hector’s motioning to to the empty table next to where I’m sitting.

The man stares at Hector.

What distinguishes this nondescript man is the gay pride hat he has on.

“Excuse me?” the man says.

“You heard me. This table is saved. I’m expecting somebody.”

The nondescript dude glares at Hector. “You can’t save a table.”

“Listen,” Hector says. “You want trouble, I’m here for you.”

At this point I stick my neck out a little.

“Don’t mind Hector. He’s hypoglycemic.”

“That’s right,” Hector says. “I’m a Hypo. Go sit next to the Blogger Man.”

I’m wiggling the chair. “You’re table’s waiting, friend. And guess what? The air’s better at this end.”

Hector sneers at me.

He’s hard to focus on

Lately, Hector looks like a poet.

Matter of fact, he bears a striking resemblance to Ezra Pound, the renowned poet and traitor.

Before he grew a beard, Hector looked a lot like Grigory Zinoviev, the Russian Revolutionary.

But that was before he grew a beard.

Now he looks like a poet.

But you can’t really look at him.

He’ll notice you looking at him and start screaming shit. “You getting a eye full, asshole!”

What’s crazy, you’re eye is drawn to him. He’s such a hard ass human being you find him compelling. You can’t stop looking at him. Until he sees you and screams,

“What the fuck you looking at!”

And of course you look away. Then sneak a look until he sees you looking. And again you look away.

It’s hard to focus on him.

Hector’s weapons

I came in here one day and found the only empty table happened to be next to Hector. I didn’t really want to sit beside him because, like I said, he’s a hard guy to look at. Only this time around, he was distracted by something on his computer screen and didn’t notice me take a seat beside him.

Until I was already planted.

He notices me and says, “You’re crowding me, man.”

“What?”

“Don’t crowd me.”

I’m a pretty big guy. One this particular day I’m in no mood for assholes.

“I’ll sit in your god damn lap if I feel like it.”

This didn’t even phase him.

“I could pull out my German Lugar and blow your head off,” he says.

“Are you threatening me?”

“Not at all. I’m saying I could not I would.”

“A German Lugar, eh?”

“That’s right. I’m packing it as we speak.”

“The Lugar’s your preferred weapon, eh?”

“No, it’s not. My preferred weapon is a AR15 assault rifle. I keep it in the trunk of my car.”

“No shit.”

“Modified to M16 firing capacity. You know what that means, don’t you?”

“It mean you got a machine gun in your trunk.”

He nods slowly. His eyes narrow. “You want to move your table over a little. I’m asking nicely.”

“That’s all you had to do,” I say. “Ask nicely.”

I scoot my table away from him as far as it’ll go. I meant to do it anyway. I don’t like sitting next to people, either. You never know who might be sitting next to you. It could be somebody real nasty.

Like Hector.

The Lobotomy Dude clued me on him

Another time I’m in here at this very table and Hector is over there at his very table, when the Lobotomy Dude lumbers in. Sees Hector. Grabs the empty table beside me.

“See the man over there? His name is Hector Lozario. He’s a bigot.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Hector says, not bothering to look up from his computer. “I’m the Bigot and you’re the Nut Job.”

“He hates people. He hates me. He hates you. He hates everybody.”

“You say so, Looney Tunes.”

“He thinks the Jews are conspiring to take over the world.”

“I don’t think it. I know it.”

“He hates Jews. He hates African Americans, too. He thinks African Americans are lazy and stupid.”

“I won’t take a lie detector on that one, Nutty.”

“He hates ethnic people. He’s a White Supremist. Even though he’s a Latin of Lithuanian ancestry, he is an avoid White Supremist.”

“Now you’re making up shit.”

“But the thing he hates the most are Transsexuals. In fact, all forms of Gender Fluidity engages his hatred. But especially Homosexuals.”

“Don’t go Fruity on my Nutty .”

“He hates Homosexuals because he thinks he might become a Homosexual in his spare time. He has a lot of spare time. He fears Homosexuality may infect him, like the common cold.”

“How do you know all this?”

“We went to different schools together,” the Lobotomy Dude says.

Hector’s looking up from his computer. He’s shaking his head. It’s as if the Lobotomy Dude has brought out the best in him. He starts to laugh. Pauses. Says, “I’m done here.”

He gets up and strolls out the door.

The nondescript dude is setting up his table

He gets out his computer and plugs it in. Adjusts it on the table. He gazes over a Hector. I’m thinking I could say something.

I could tell him about Hector.

Tell him what the Lobotomy Dude told me.

Nothing doing.

I’m minding my own business.