6. Fool


There was this one guy, sat in the corner all the time. All he did was drink, read the Bible, and talk to himself. He came from some sort of broken home and couldn’t help how he was. He used to be some sort of big shot lawyer or something. Over time, his conscience drove him mad. Hence, he’s come here to drown.

I never spoke his first name – he was simply Mr. Krowley. The regulars paid no mind to him, every so often trying to draw him into conversation. They never succeeded. He’d been there before I was born. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, even though he gave me the creeps.

There were tattoos all over his arms, which he kept covered on the hottest days. They reached to his hands, some present on his knuckles. This part was a mystery that I was sure I didn’t want to learn about. If he’d been a serial killer or a hitman, I sure as hell didn’t want to know it.

Why the man was obsessed with the Bible – no one knows. He comes in around the same night, has a few drinks, and leaves. He had the same drinks and read the same passages depending on the day of the week. Selections change for holidays and tragedies – nothing else.

He was fairly routine but every so often the cycle would shift. Whether he simply got bored or something happened, nobody knows. Why he came to us is another mystery on the list – there were tons of places to go. Maybe he felt at home with us.

His presence added that air of uncertainty to the place; he was good for the general atmosphere. Everywhere worth going to needs that little extra something. Mr. Krowley’s Biblical muttering was what we had, as well as other things.

I was always patient with him, despite his ever-changing moods. I figured that he was lonely or suffering some immense personal anguish internally. I assumed that it was best to let sleeping dogs lie – I was in no mood to be bit.

The place told stories, they made up their own reasons for the man’s…eccentricity. Seeing how the world works, I think he did it purposely so we’d leave him alone. Then again, I could be mistaken.

Maybe he wanted the attention after all.

Who knows – but certainly everybody cares.

Who am I to judge anybody?

Especially my own uncle.

After all, I’m only 16.


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