While walking up Park Street yesterday, I was distracted by the crazy shrieks of a passing madman. When you hear high-pitched, dissonant screaming in this town, it usually means one of three things:
1. You are walking by the halfway houses on Edgewood.
2. The homeless guy who looks like Boris Yeltsin just dropped his frappucino.
3. A acapella group is strolling by, jauntily swigging from handles of flavored vodka and Smirnoff Ice.
Strangely, however, the screecher was none of these Haven-archetypes; he was a fairly clean-looking young male--backwards cap, wife beater, sagging jeans--walking alone and yelling at inanimate objects.
"Fuck you, FIRE HYDRANT, you think you're so RED!"
"EAT shit, fence, you can't stop anything!"
While I debated whether or not to side-shuffle to the other side of the street and avoid an interaction, he spotted me. At this point, I caught a glimpse of his crazy eyes.
"YALE bbbitch! Yo bitch you can pass the SAT's but you can't pass the STREET smarts!"
Apparently "street smarts" compel white guys to dress like Marky Mark, circa 1994.