The hitman, the alcoholic and the arsonist

I have to say, I could always really pick 'em!!! I do have first hand experience of dating an alcoholic-and what a joy that wasn't. He said he wasn't a drunk-but he even drank a bottle of Brut-that really nasty aftershave-because he didn't have anything on hand that resembled beer, or the normal things people drink. I lost patience very quickly-and I bailed out after a couple of months. Why a couple of months, I can almost hear you ask? Well-because I was in Mother Teresa mode: I tried to help someone who just didn't want any help. I've since learned to let people be: if they want to drink themselves to death, or throw themselves in front of a moving train, it's their decision.

And the arsonist? Oooooh, I dated a guy when I was in university, and he worked as a flame and sword swallower to make extra money. That was okay-although kissing him after his act was a bit gross. He didn't make it through school, though-and we lost touch. The last time I heard from him, he had been arrested for arson (he burned down a building, poor thing. Luckily, it was empty at the time). Er-a few problems with his temper, I suppose-I think his part-time job was probably a big clue, but I ignored it at the time.

As for the hitman-well, that is another story. I didn't date him, I hasten to add (believe me, after the crazy people I've met and/or dated, I actually was more careful!! And the man was so evil, who would see anything in him anyway?

Someone clearly did. Zoe was born Elsie, and changed her name as soon as she was old enough to do so. I would have done the same thing. Who sticks their kid with a birthname of Elsie? She probably went through years of taunting at school, changed her name and then killed her parents. Nobody could blame her!!

Well, anyway- Elsie was the sister of an acquaintance of mine; Elsie met this hitman I will call Jack (just think Jack the Ripper. It suits him, now that I think about it!). And Jack used to kill for hire in the East End. What set him apart was the fact that he had a wooden leg. This is true; he apparently upset some of the East End thugs by burning down the home of one of their friends (with the guy inside), so they came after him with a hacksaw. Off went his leg; what they did with it, I don't know (and didn't ask), but I'll bet that made his eyes water!!

So he used to go to these acquaintances' house for dinner-and when he sat down to eat, he would unscrew his wooden leg. Don't ask; I don't know. Perhaps he thought he was being polite. Or, perhaps he kept it within range so he could throw it at anyone who hacked him off.

What happened to Jack? He died a few years ago. I heard about this, and I thought someone set fire to him with a hot chip pan (his specialty: he used to boil the oil used to fry chips , and then throw the fat at his target. Such a nice, stable man!!!). Then I wondered if someone burned his house down (with him in it, of course - another specialty of his).

Nope: old Jack the hitman died of a heart attack. Huh. How pedestrian of him. How rude, not to go out in some spectacular way. How - boring!!

I mention all this, of course, because I talked the other day about wanting a hitman for the prat who lives upstairs. Oops!! Bad karma!!!

Now I'm so careful about the company I keep that I practically interrogate everyone before I become friends with them. You can't be too careful. You never know when a total nut case is going to come into your life.

I will say something about the above three people: they did make life a little more entertaining than usual!!!

Ah, life: it is never dull!