HEEEERE’S JOHNNY!! in Adventures From Prison

        Sometimes crazy comes in a neat, normal looking package. A few months ago a friendly, clean-cut and handsome guy walked into the library. He spoke intelligently and was excited to see so many books. The only thing off about him was his eyes, they were kind of intense, but I wrote it off as shell shock from being a new arrival.

        Over the next few weeks I started hearing stories about a new crazy haunting the library.

        “He kept getting encyclopedia after encyclopedia and just fanning the pages while complaining there weren’t enough pictures,” one co-worker told me.

        “He just sat at the table and stared at us,” another complained.

        I kept thinking how strange it was that I’d yet to meet the newest whack-a-doodle since they usually are attracted to me.

        One Sunday morning, I’m behind the counter with my cellmate when he comes up next to me and whispers, “That’s the guy who spent 10 minutes last night telling me how happy he is he started reading again because it helps him poop more!”

        I look to where he’s pointing and sure enough it’s the crazy eyed guy. Apparently when I first met him he was shell-shocked, only it had served to dampen the crazy, because looking right back at me from the other side of the library were full-on “Heeere’s Johnny” eyes ala The Shining. As those eyes met mine I shivered involuntarily – no joke – they just weren’t normal.

        “Hey Buddy,” he said to me with a serial killer smile. “How are you? Haven’t seen you in awhile, are you doing alright?” His words slide together like the patter of a used car salesman.

        “He’s all yours,” my cellie whispers to me and runs off laughing evilly.

        “I need a magazine. Got sooome magazines?”

        “A few,” I say and look pointedly at the hundred or so directly in front of him.

        “Good, good, good. Where are they buuuddy?”

        I look at him, then at the magazines, than back at him.

        “I’m just kidding,” he said. “Bet you thought I was a weirdo, huh?”

        “Not at all,” I lie.

        “Let me see the National Geographic, I want to look at some babes.”

        “In the National Geo? We have US Weekly and a few others that would be better for that.”

        “Nah, I like them dirty. There’s just something about a nice smelly woman with hairy pits.”

        “I…suppose.” I say and pass him the magazine. He picks it up and starts flipping through the pages. “Don’t go anywhere, you gotta see this one chick,” he tells me, and something in his eyes tells me not to argue.

        He finds the picture, holds it up in front of his face and begins speaking in falsetto while wiggling the magazine. “Hey there, cutie, what’s your name? I’m (makes some clicking noise). Let’s go out!”

        From the stacks in back my cellie laughs and I find myself hating him a little.

        “Don’t like her?” Heeere’s Johnny asks. “That’s okay I’ve got more.”

        “Really, Dude, I’ve got things I need…” I try to say but get cut off by a picture of Chinese Soldiers.

        “Look at us, we’re the Red Arrrrmy,” he says still in falsetto as he begins to march the magazine across the counter.

        I back away and retreat to the stacks behind me, leaving the mad man to play by himself.