Walking the streets of downtown Chicago today on our way back to the hotel from lunch at Frontera Grill, we were suddenly confronted by a rare and bizarre individual. Walking towards us was a short and very scraggly man, hunched over, limping, and talking to himself. While this is a common sight in most downtown areas, this guy, who looked much like Rasputin, was anything but common. In fact, he apparently shares more than outward appearance with the Mad Monk.
Bulging massively out from this his dirty shorts, nearly tearing through, was an enormous semi-erect penis, or a close prosthetic approximation of one, we still can't decide. Whatever it was, it was huge.
This guy was causing quite a stir as he hobbled on, as you can imagine. Everyone was giving him a wide berth. After he passed by, we turned around and watched as he walked past two young women behind us. They forced themselves to look straight ahead until he walked by and then they shot astonished glances back at him. In no time they were both on their phones calling people to tell them about Hugh.
That's what we call him now. Hugh Mongous.
4 comments:
Reminds of a similar experience I had in college. My house was located across the street from a half-way house. One night a friend and I decided to walk for pizza and came across one of the residents wandering around, pants un-buttoned leaving his junk for all to see. Granted, I had been drinking, but I know I wasn't imagining things. I wish I had forgotten that sight..
So that's what you went to Chicago for...?
I am here to bear witness to the veracity of Dave tale, although I may differ on some of the particulars. From my account the appearance of his appendage was very outward and most strikingly similar to the mad monk's; it's in a Russian museum you know. I may have innocently passed our friend Hugh without pause had it not been for change in Dave's demeanor as we strolled up Wacker Street. Dave suddenly became frantic in gesture and a look of sheer terror befell his unshaven face. I turned to see what the cause of such obvious fright was.
Hugh himself had a vacant, almost dazed look on his face. His appendage stretching the seams of his undersized cotton gym shorts, of the sweat pant style. He meandered down the avenue rhythmically waiving his tool from side to side as if he were divining for water. My account of the impression he made on the young women walking behind us is unchanged from Dave's account.
I hereby do solemnly swear and affirm that these accounts are true and that I bear witness to the circumstances and actions that occurred on Wacker Street, Chicago, Illinois on the eleventh day of October in the year of Brian's Lord 2008 at approximately 1:30 pm CDT.
Why do I always miss the good times?
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