Rum, Sodomy, and the Lash: Pick Two (aghrivaine) wrote,
Rum, Sodomy, and the Lash: Pick Two

Malibu BigBelly and the Church of Perpetual Regrets

Last night I drove down to Newark to meet up with Dan and John to go to the Baltimore game.
I stopped off at "Between Books" and caught Greg up on all the TorCon gossip. I also heard, second hand, some ancient and very inaccurate gossip from the bad old days of the Changeling Game. It's always charming when people who one thought were one's friends spread malicious lies about one's self, no? That aside, I met up with the lads at Days of Knights in Newark. I reminisced driving past the Deer Park of many a mis-spent evening in there with The Manmountain, and the Burb, back in the day. On the way down to Baltimore, I got the scoop on the Baltimore game.

It was a good night! I got accomplished the majority of the goals I'd set. People who I've never met had "heard of me" which was sort of ominous. And I don't know whether they'd heard of me good, or heard of me bad -- but as Jack Sparrow says, "But you have heard of me, right?" I've also decided that I have a major crush on trollfriend who is tall and gorgeous and witty and very vivacious. Completely out of my league though, so I'll just relegate that one to the 'unrequited crush' category. I got to schmooze with boztopia, too - which is always a pleasure. There was even a wedding at the church of our Lady of Perpetual Regret - which was about as random as anything could possibly be. Fortunately, I had a quote from Galatians 5 on hand for a scriptural reading. Crashingly inappropriate, but full of vampy goodness! (sort of..) I also learned something about Sanskrit, which I thought was only a written language. Turns out it is a real spoken language, but nearly entirely dead. I believe I was confusing it with Cuneiform, in fact - but due to the miracle of Google, I came up with this. What Sanksrit is

And then, on the way home, it happened. We stopped off at The Wafflehouse, somewhere in Delaware for a snack. I got the waffles (my personal guideline is that one should always order whatever a place is named after, right?) and while sitting in its garishly lit interior, one of the strangest people I have ever seen walked in. A man walked in... wow. Really, words fail me. Prosaically, the waitress said, "Oh my lord!" just before the door opened. Only she had a Southern drawl, so it came out like "Oh my loa-rd!".

He was very fat. He had a belly that was easily protruding twice as far out as the rest of him. And it was prominently displayed too -- if I were making a movie out of his entrance, I'd shoot it from the floor, panning up. The shot would open with a pair of white tennis shoes, and pan up to reveal a pair knee-high black stockings on an incredibly fat pair of legs. Above this, the camera would drift up to an acid-washed mini skirt size.. oh, about 4, i'd say -- with a incredibly heavy-set man squeezed into it through some miracle of sturdy fabric. Seems groaning, above the mini-skirt is a protruding belly, oozing out from under a purple-sequined baby-doll tank top like boston creme coming out of a donut that's been squoze. And to top the ensemble off - the man (for it is a man) is mostly balding, with a purple ribbon in his hair. Oh, and a tennis player's sun-visor. Over his ONE EYE.

We were all stunned. Dan and I were struck dumb. John was practically asleep at the counter, and he did a double-take with a look in his face that spoke volumes. The volumes were all clearly labelled, too, and they all said, "What the HECK??" This guy looked like he was dressed like a 12 year old girl who lived in a trailer park. And when I say that - what I mean is, that it looked like he had actually absconded with the clothing of a 12 year old girl who lived in a trailer park, because the skirt and baby-doll were clearly about that size. How he got into them without splitting them in half, I simply don't know. Nor do I care to.

We left without making eye contact. Just before we were getting out of the parking lot, I remembered I had a camera. We spun back into the Waffle House parking lot, and John got out with the camera. At this point it was about 2AM, and although we were all dead sober, we were so giddy we might as well have been tanked. The purple-sequined guy was in the bathroom, and the staff of the Waffle House had stepped outside for a smoke break. Dan and I positioned his truck for a quick escape while John negotiated with the Waffle House folk - I'm not sure what he said, but they were cracking up. Later he informed us that the waitress told him that he had one eye - but not like, with a glass eye or anything. Just... a socket. Finally he came out, and John ran up, but failed to take a picture... but we took off anyway, because the... gentleman .... was coming out of the Waffle House. As we drove off, I pointed the camera out the window, and got this shot - which does not do justice in any way to the bizarre nature of the individual in question. .

We did laugh. I mean - I'm a big believer in people being as free as they like to get their freak on, and if he wants to dress like a 12 year old, w00t for him. But I really want to know the story. I mean - something happened that night, and whatever it was that happened, it resulted in a morbidly obese man dressed in a 12 year old girl's clothing lurching into a Waffle House at 2AM. I really want to know that story.

At some point, someone commented that it was like seeing Bigfoot - only it was clearly Bigbelly. And then John chimed in, "No, that was Malibu Bigbelly." And thus it shall ever after be known as the night we saw Malibu Bigbelly.

In retrospect - I wish we hadn't have been quite so tired, and therefore prone to fits of giggling. I mean, obviously this guy's got something going on... but you know, maybe not! Maybe the joke is on us - maybe he's just a fat guy with one eye who gets a kick out of shocking people at Waffle Houses late at night. Who knows? We figured if a Malkavian were caught on camera using obfuscate, it would look a lot like this. Maybe it was a dare - maybe his buddies were sitting in a car a few meters away, having a good laugh. Or maybe he's just afflicted... who knows? But darn, I really want to know the story!

I arrived home very late, and very tired. Today, I've got not a thing to do - and have set a new record for being out of money immediately after a payday. I've got $29.00 to last me until the 19th. (Well, in cash, anyway -- part of the reason this has happened is because I've more or less paid off all my credit card bills.) So I'll be taking it easy and staying in a lot. I'm drumming up some arty projects to work on. even as we speak.

Well we're not really speaking. You're reading my journal, aren't you? Shut up, erythromeister I just corrected myself, ok?

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