Funny Story
So me and Meg are coming back from the north shore from her dad's place to pick up this werewolf prop we needed to grab. There's this weird guy, kinda grungy dressed and definately weird and unsafe looking, asking me if I've considered suicide, and whether I pray before bed (because I might not wake up if I don't!). I brush him off and he wanders off and I don't think anything of him again. So, just as we're about to leave the seabus on the Vancouver side, we see him sitting there, and he asks:
"Are you laughing at me fuckhead?"
And I laugh, in his face, then calmly reply "No, not at all" and then get ready to beat the shit out of him. Thankfully, he doesn't make eye contact again, and we part ways safely.
Now, in the moment, these decisions made perfect sense. However, in retrospect they are both hysterical and flagrantly insane. The reason for me laughing wasn't meant to be insulting, his question was honestly hysterical to me, the irony of it all didn't hit me until later. Then my answer that I wasn't was truthful, because I hadn't been before he asked, but the answer should seem no more sane in that context to someone not in my head. Tack on the fact that I was gearing up for a fight that I saw coming (he was crazy, there was no cause for his outburst, I was expecting him to start something) and we have pure, psychotic, Christopher.
Brilliance.