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This is a question Tramps

Tramps, burn-outs and the homeless insane all go to making life that little bit more interesting.
Gather around the burning oil-drum and tell us your hobo-tales.

suggested by kaol

(, Thu 2 Jul 2009, 15:47)
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Crazy pigeon "lady".
There's this terrifying entity, living in the heart of Newcastle's town centre. This horrific street-stalker goes by the single name of; "Crazy pigeon lady". Sadly, I've bumped into 'her' a lot of times. One time was a little too close for comfort.

It was a warm summer day, and I was with two buddies from College. We'd just went to see a movie, and one of them decided to go and grab a frappa-caramel-marshmallow-chocolate-mushroom-turtle-accino from Starbucks. Since it was a bloody hot day, we let him go inside to get it himself. My other pal and I didn't want to go inside with the sweltering coffee fumes, and be crippled by the amount of people inside. So, we sat on a bench, chatting about our lives. It was a nice, invigorating chat, but it was all interrupted when a pigeon fluttered down by our feet. Our conversation continued, but I could see my buddy staring at it. He was talking to me, but his face was turned directly to the pigeon this whole time.

Eventually, he went and did it. I knew he would. He's done it every time he's witnessed a pigeon landing since day 1 of Secondary School. He stomped by it, to made it squawk, and fly away. Never saw the amusement in it, but I try to stay open-minded. Anyway, after he does this, there was an almighty rustle from behind us. We turned around to see what it was, and it was this really ugly bearded guy with huge, bulging pockets (I'd later discover it was in fact, crazy pigeon LADY) who was staring at us intently. "You shouldn't do that. They've done nothing to you. Go on; bugger off".

Now, normally I wouldn't have moved, but when this entity of pure FEAR is in your face, you'd be surprised what you'd do to get away. So, my friend and I ran for dear life. We ran to the end of the street, and waited for about 10 minutes. We looked back down the street, and s/he appeared to be gone. We stealthily snuck back over to Starbucks, where our dear chum couldn't be seen. Had he been eaten or killed by her? No. He was sitting in Starbucks, sipping daintily on his cup of chocolatey goodness, chilling out while this whole thing happened. Bastard.
(, Thu 2 Jul 2009, 18:04, Reply)

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