I'm walking through the parking lot across the street from work - I notice a fellow get out of his car and start walking ahead of me, in the same direction I'm heading... He's one of those generally nondescript people, save for a very red T-shirt, dark aviator sunglasses and somewhat of a large blobby tribal type tattoo peeking out form under this left sleeve. We cross two lanes of cars and I'm thinking about tattoos.He's about ten yards ahead of me and seems somewhat twitchy - looking around as if someone were following him. I chuckle to myself wondering if he thinks I'm following him since we are heading in the same direction... Suddenly he stops, looks around for a few seconds and cuts to his right between parked cars. Does he really think I'm tailing him?...
I about five feet behind him at this point - I notice him fidgeting with something in his hand. Is he hallucinating that I'm a deceitful troll following with nefareous intentions and preparing to stab me with a magical object?... Am I the paranoid one now?
He fiddles with something in his hand some more - I realize it's just keys! Quickly he scrapes the car he's standing next to - a nondescript gray Ford Mustang with no visible stickers or decals - once, a long swipe the length of the passenger door and one shorter swipe at the back fender. I can hear a loud screech - the scrape definitely went through the paint. The fellow doesn't look around and just keeps walking with a bit of a satisfied gait in his step.
I'm stunned for half a second. It seems so totally random - he could of just as well dropped his pants and shat next to the Mustang - it would have made just about as much sense in this context.
I was tempted to catch up to him and ask just what the reason was for keying that particular car - was it vengeance for a parking spot stolen from under his nose? Does he hate new Ford Mustangs? Did voice in his head command him to do it? I thought better of it and instead followed him across the street and for another half block till I entered the air-conditioned, security guard monitored [with locked down elevators] cocoon of my place of employment.
"Lots of fucking weirdos roaming the streets", I thought to myself as the elevator took me to my second floor office...
