One of the more notorious of our squalid population of downtown 'characters', immediately familiar to any retailer within the city limits, is Smelly Santa. Not actually homeless, just mental in some way and profoundly, majestically unwashed. He doesn't change clothes in the traditional way, he buys something new and wears that and only that until it is inevitably consumed by his eternally percolating crust of grime. Then suddenly he's in a brand spanking new outfit and the process repeats itself. His unique stench informs the first half of his sobriquet while 'Santa' refers to his robust, filthy white beard and halo of scraggly yellowish hair.
He's a talker, and on a bad day he'll hover in the doorway perusing the sale cart while interjecting his homespun wisdom into the conversations of unlucky passers buy, waves of stench pouring off him with tidal regularity.
I've been dealing with him for decades, literally. He was a regular when I worked at a chain bookstore in the mid 90s and he understands that I'm not someone he can mook. He still runs his monologue when making a purchase ("Not much sci fi out there HEH HEH HEH last time I got some real winners HEH HEH HEH when are you gonna put out some more sci fi HEH HEH HEH") but its a halfhearted reflex. In his heart of hearts, swaddled deep beneath countless layers of filth and mental illness, he knows I'd stab him in the face with a used toilet plunger before giving him the time of day.
You could say we've reached an understanding.
So today's visit was unpleasantly surprising.
He ran his game on the sale cart, brought up a grungy quarter book, made the usual circus out of extracting a few coins from his greasily bulging, grande burrito-sized leather change sack ("Oh come on HEH HEH HEH I know I've got a penny here somewhere HEH HEH HEH" *spills change all over counter* "Aw, heck!") but then, when the time came to shuffle back out the door and make his way down to the next ring of retail hell to torment the unfortunate denizens, he followed me back down the counter. I priced books long enough for it to become clear he wasn't leaving. He wasn't bold enough to actually speak, but his stench as such close quarters is louder than bombs so I broke my standing rule of non engagement.
"Yes?"
"Uh, HEH HEH HEH...do you guys have, ah, have the JUNK FOOD DIET COOKBOOK?"
"No."
"Well, see, I think there's THREE of them..."
"No."
"Ah, uh, okay then, see ya later!"
"..."
Hopefully this isn't the start of a new phase in our relationship.
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