After the initial feeling of shock wears off, I have five thoughts in about 2 seconds:
1. I don't know this person.
2. Hey, that guy is naked. Why is he....
3. DANGER!
4. Hit him with the laptop!
5. No, wait, the laptop was expensive. Plus it has all your music on it and you just spent like a month getting it all in order. Would hate for that to have been for nothing. Put that down before proceeding. (It's amazing how my brain works at times.)
After putting down the laptop, the next thing I do is yell, "DUDE!" because that is the universal male response to unwanted male nudity. The only thing that varies is the inflection, depending on location and familiarity with the nude male. For example, if you are at a party and a drunken friend whips his junk out, you might turn away and groan, "Duuude." If you are at the gym and there is an old naked man who is taking too long to put his clothes on you might turn away and whisper to yourself, "Dude." But, because I did not know this man and my living room is not typically a place for male nudity, I cranked the volume to eleven and just yelled "DUDE!" as loud as I could.
Before I could even leap up out of my chair he's taking steps into the house with his hands up, pleading, "Don't be alarmed."
First off, this is never a smart thing to say because it automatically makes the person you say it to alarmed. But as bad as it normally is, it is the absolute worst thing you can ever say to a person if you are naked and they are clothed. "Dude, get the fuck out of my house," I scream.
"I need your help," he replies. This causes me to pause for just an instant while Irish-Catholic Guilt section of my brain chimes in: "He could be in trouble. You don't know his story. What if he was mugged and robbed, or kidnapped? You don't know your neighbors that well. One of them could be that guy from "Saw." Let's hear him out." Taking my pause as a cue to tell me his story, the naked man keeps going. "I've been poisoned."
Hearing this, the Irish-Catholic Guilt starts to waver. "Someone put acid in me," the naked man continues. To which the ICG says, "Never mind. This guy is nuts, we need to get him out of the house." I, agreeing with the ICG, respond with, "Dude, get the fuck out of my house!"
"But, I need help, I'm going to die," he says.
Full of sympathy, I reply with, "Get the fuck out of my house!"
"What town am I in?" he asked.
"You're in Norwood," I tell him. "...now get the fuck out of my house!"
"Someone is trying to kill me," he says. "I need to go to the hospital, but not here. You need to take me to the hospital in another town."
"You need to get the fuck out of my house," I repeat.
"Please, I'm gonna die," he said.
Despite the fact I am ending every sentence with, "you need to get out of my house," this actually goes back and forth for a few minutes. Weirdly, it appears I can't get through to the crazy person. Finally it occurs to me that I, for some reason, am actually negotiating with a naked man and I have had enough. "Look," I say, "You need to get out of my house. I'll get you a towel and call you an ambulance, but you need to get out."
"But..." he starts. Having made what is my best and final offer, I am done trying to reason with the naked crazy man and I want him gone. Now, I watch a lot of Discovery Channel, so I know in the animal kingdom the best way to get any potential predator to leave is to appear bigger than you are. Even though I've got six inches and easily a hundred and fifty pounds on the guy I try puffing my chest out like some sort of lizard, drop my voice a couple octaves, walk aggressively towards him and scream at him one more time to get out. This appears to scare him enough to get through whatever noise is going on in his head and he finally catches on that I might not want him in my home. So he backs up outside, to the point I can finally close and lock the door.
Now that he's not inside, I tell him through the door to stay put. I admit, that probably sent somewhat of a mixed message. But the thing is I live close to a soccer field that constantly has kids on it, so I wanted him out of my house, but I don't want him wandering that way. I run upstairs, grab a towel (not a good towel, mind you - a towel I won't mind never seeing again) and the phone and call 911. The woman on the other end asks my emergency, and I tell her a naked man just wandered into my house. Apparently, I sounded a little rattled.
"Calm down, sir," she says. Listen, lady, a possibly dangerous, probably crazy but definitely naked man just walked into my living room: you calm down. She says the police are on their way. By the time I get back downstairs the naked man has, not surprisingly, taken off. The police show up several minutes later and ask me where the naked man is, with enough skepticism in their voice that I'm worried they're going to think I'm the one who is high and seeing naked people. I told them he took off and I'm not sure where he went because I certainly wasn't about to go chasing after him to give him a towel.
Fortunately while they were taking my statement the naked man was spotted in my neighbor's yard and quickly arrested. Talking to my neighbors (naked, crazy people - bringing communities together!), it sounds as if he tried to get into their house first and then came up through the woods behind my house until he found an unlocked door. A door, I should point out, which will not be unlocked again for a while. You know, just before this happened I had been wondering what I was going to write about this afternoon. I really didn't need it to be something this interesting.
Also, what does it say about me that right after I heard he was caught I thought to myself, "This is going to make a hell of a blog post!"?
[Update #1: The police are requesting we send him a "Letter of Disinvite."]
[Update #2: Probably not going to send him the letter, but that doesn't mean I won't at least compose a first draft of it.]
2. Hey, that guy is naked. Why is he....
3. DANGER!
4. Hit him with the laptop!
5. No, wait, the laptop was expensive. Plus it has all your music on it and you just spent like a month getting it all in order. Would hate for that to have been for nothing. Put that down before proceeding. (It's amazing how my brain works at times.)
After putting down the laptop, the next thing I do is yell, "DUDE!" because that is the universal male response to unwanted male nudity. The only thing that varies is the inflection, depending on location and familiarity with the nude male. For example, if you are at a party and a drunken friend whips his junk out, you might turn away and groan, "Duuude." If you are at the gym and there is an old naked man who is taking too long to put his clothes on you might turn away and whisper to yourself, "Dude." But, because I did not know this man and my living room is not typically a place for male nudity, I cranked the volume to eleven and just yelled "DUDE!" as loud as I could.
Before I could even leap up out of my chair he's taking steps into the house with his hands up, pleading, "Don't be alarmed."
First off, this is never a smart thing to say because it automatically makes the person you say it to alarmed. But as bad as it normally is, it is the absolute worst thing you can ever say to a person if you are naked and they are clothed. "Dude, get the fuck out of my house," I scream.
"I need your help," he replies. This causes me to pause for just an instant while Irish-Catholic Guilt section of my brain chimes in: "He could be in trouble. You don't know his story. What if he was mugged and robbed, or kidnapped? You don't know your neighbors that well. One of them could be that guy from "Saw." Let's hear him out." Taking my pause as a cue to tell me his story, the naked man keeps going. "I've been poisoned."
Hearing this, the Irish-Catholic Guilt starts to waver. "Someone put acid in me," the naked man continues. To which the ICG says, "Never mind. This guy is nuts, we need to get him out of the house." I, agreeing with the ICG, respond with, "Dude, get the fuck out of my house!"
"But, I need help, I'm going to die," he says.
Full of sympathy, I reply with, "Get the fuck out of my house!"
"What town am I in?" he asked.
"You're in Norwood," I tell him. "...now get the fuck out of my house!"
"Someone is trying to kill me," he says. "I need to go to the hospital, but not here. You need to take me to the hospital in another town."
"You need to get the fuck out of my house," I repeat.
"Please, I'm gonna die," he said.
Despite the fact I am ending every sentence with, "you need to get out of my house," this actually goes back and forth for a few minutes. Weirdly, it appears I can't get through to the crazy person. Finally it occurs to me that I, for some reason, am actually negotiating with a naked man and I have had enough. "Look," I say, "You need to get out of my house. I'll get you a towel and call you an ambulance, but you need to get out."
"But..." he starts. Having made what is my best and final offer, I am done trying to reason with the naked crazy man and I want him gone. Now, I watch a lot of Discovery Channel, so I know in the animal kingdom the best way to get any potential predator to leave is to appear bigger than you are. Even though I've got six inches and easily a hundred and fifty pounds on the guy I try puffing my chest out like some sort of lizard, drop my voice a couple octaves, walk aggressively towards him and scream at him one more time to get out. This appears to scare him enough to get through whatever noise is going on in his head and he finally catches on that I might not want him in my home. So he backs up outside, to the point I can finally close and lock the door.
Now that he's not inside, I tell him through the door to stay put. I admit, that probably sent somewhat of a mixed message. But the thing is I live close to a soccer field that constantly has kids on it, so I wanted him out of my house, but I don't want him wandering that way. I run upstairs, grab a towel (not a good towel, mind you - a towel I won't mind never seeing again) and the phone and call 911. The woman on the other end asks my emergency, and I tell her a naked man just wandered into my house. Apparently, I sounded a little rattled.
"Calm down, sir," she says. Listen, lady, a possibly dangerous, probably crazy but definitely naked man just walked into my living room: you calm down. She says the police are on their way. By the time I get back downstairs the naked man has, not surprisingly, taken off. The police show up several minutes later and ask me where the naked man is, with enough skepticism in their voice that I'm worried they're going to think I'm the one who is high and seeing naked people. I told them he took off and I'm not sure where he went because I certainly wasn't about to go chasing after him to give him a towel.
Fortunately while they were taking my statement the naked man was spotted in my neighbor's yard and quickly arrested. Talking to my neighbors (naked, crazy people - bringing communities together!), it sounds as if he tried to get into their house first and then came up through the woods behind my house until he found an unlocked door. A door, I should point out, which will not be unlocked again for a while. You know, just before this happened I had been wondering what I was going to write about this afternoon. I really didn't need it to be something this interesting.
Also, what does it say about me that right after I heard he was caught I thought to myself, "This is going to make a hell of a blog post!"?
[Update #1: The police are requesting we send him a "Letter of Disinvite."]
[Update #2: Probably not going to send him the letter, but that doesn't mean I won't at least compose a first draft of it.]
4 comments:
Jesus Christ!!! I want to know the follow up. Was someone trying to poison him? Was he an escapee from a mental institution? All bizarre things seem to happen to you, Tom!
If I find out anything more, believe me you'll hear about it. Also, is it wrong that I'm a little upset the news crews haven't come around to interview me yet?
No, I'd be curious as to their absence myself.
I especially enjoyed the Dude part!
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