He boarded around Water Tower Place, in a big press of people, and began conversing -- a bland, quasi-California kinda drawl, half-shreds of conversation that first made me think he was talking to somebody, only to realize a moment later that he was talking to himself. I wrote down some of his word-shreds, each one delivered in a conversational tone, having this conversation with nothing:
"You're the witch, right? You look like the witch. But I'm the wizard. Just remember, I'll take care of that little speech impediment."
"Burt? Ernie? Yeah, you better straighten that out."
"I'm Wesley Curry. Sure, they're going into their own private hell together. Just like that policeman that tried to murder me. He's dead now. In the Sun-Times."
"Jody Weiss's right arm'll be in a sling."
"They won't put THAT on your magic paper. On your magic television."
"We'll take care of that speech impediment."
"It doesn't matter that Susan is about to get hired."
"So, Burt and Ernie, you can't get away with NOT telling."
"You can say anything you want, but you can't say that George W. Bush didn't have a vision."
"In Hell, Jesus Christ is gonna make it so you cannot ever speak again."
"I'm a prince of the Earth." (tried to shake commuters' hands)
And the capper, he broke out into a song, this sort of lilting tune (which I render in crazy-person caps for emphasis):
"HeRe In HeAveN, WiTh OuR LOrD Jesus
EVeRyONe WaS CuT iN LITtLe PiECeS.
THe LiTtLe PiECeS, ThEy DiD NoT BleEd
NoR WoULd tHEy saY who It WaS
HaD DoNE tHe DeEd."
EVeRyONe WaS CuT iN LITtLe PiECeS.
THe LiTtLe PiECeS, ThEy DiD NoT BleEd
NoR WoULd tHEy saY who It WaS
HaD DoNE tHe DeEd."
I got off the bus at that point, didn't hear the rest of his crazy tune.
