Not The Good Kind Of Crazy

In the short 30 minutes between my last two classes of the day, I sometimes run down to Burger King and wolf down a quick meal. This particular visit I chose a small seat in the back of the restaurant, in front of an older woman perusing a magazine. I began to eat my french fries. RRRIIIPPP. The sound came from behind. Was she ripping up her magazine? I shrugged quietly, and took another bite of my fries. RRRIIIPPP. What is she doing? Does she not like the picture? RRRIIIPPP. Accompanying the rips of her magazine, the woman began to mutter to herself, unintelligible and loudly. Curiosity overtook me and I turned somewhat, pretending to rifle through my bag. I sneaked a peek at her. She was systematically ripping page by page of her magazines into small squares and placing them into small piles. Suddenly she looked up.

There's always this moment where, when caught doing something you know that you shouldn't, you do the first thing that pops into your mind. Normally this action, not being one that has been thoroughly thought out or planned, isn't always the best. Once I was at a stoplight staring at the person in the car next to me. The person suddenly looked at me, and I, in shock, stuck out my tongue. Saywhat?

She looked up, an angry look on her face. I had interrupted her in the act of crazy. I turned around quickly, too quickly, making obvious the fact that I had been staring. I plugged iPedro up and prayed that she wouldn't begin to talk to me.

Days later, I was walking down a nearby street. The wind had picked up as the crazy scientists continued their evil weather battle, and I huddled into my big coat a bit. A small square of Brad Pitt flew by my head, and I smiled a bit, thinking of Crazy Burger Lady. I looked down and realized that the entire street was littered with these small squares of celebrities, all meticulously ripped into fours. Did she drop them in haste, running from someone? Or was this her master plan, tiny paper bombs? I smiled again and continued the long walk home.