Turns out the crazy man on the stoop really is crazy

I have had quite a relationship with the crazy man around the corner for the past five years.

At first, I was terrified of the crazy man. I avoided any attempts he made at crazy conversation. Then one day, he caught me in a really good mood and told me I looked fabulous in my blue trench coat. I smiled and thanked him. From that point on, the crazy man and I have been buddies.

Sometimes, the crazy man is in a bad mood and doesn't say hello. Sometimes, he asks me how I am four times in a row and I answer four times in a row. Sometimes, he says truly bizarre things like I lost my dinner fork under the table! and I just smile and nod. Sometimes we high-five. When dealing with someone crazy on a daily basis, it's always best to take your cues from them and not initiate contact.

Yesterday, our relationship took a startling turn. As I approached his stoop, he was yelling and swearing at someone across the street. Except, um, there was no one across the street. I decided not to get involved in his imaginary brawl, so I put my head down and quickly hurried by. As I passed the stoop, he said, and you too, you fucking bitch. I was actually a little hurt, as the crazy man and I have gotten on so famously in the past. If I told Mom about this, which I might because I like to perpetuate her constant fear about my life in the big city, because it's funny, she will undoubtedly say, well, of course he did. He's CRAZY. Maybe you'll think twice about talking to crazies and homeless people all the time now. No I won't.