Whackamolie is crying. That’s not her name, that’s how I think of her. She is a half step from a mental institution. The reason she is out here, able to annoy normal people is that no one cares about her.
Whackamolie lives with a man who totally ignores her. Why? She is very clean and can cook.
Hence, he has free maid service.
Whackamolie know he doesn’t like her better than his socks but doesn’t allow that to enter the front of her mind.
Truth escapes the cell in her head, and every so often rushes to the front, turning her into the Whacko we all know and despise.
I’m standing by the back door and needing a diversion I ask;
“Why are you so sad…?”
“I’m not sad. I am feeling someone else’s pain. Someone else is upset and I’m picking up the vibes…”
She went on but my ears locked down and I focused on not laughing.