I would like to preface by saying I neither condone murdering people nor am I in any way making jest of mental illness – I’m just telling a story – a true one:

I stopped to fill up my gas tank on my way to the office.   The pump asked me if I wanted a car wash.  Even though I didn’t really have time, I pressed the Yes button.

I punched the code from the receipt and entered.  The water was spraying and the brushes were spinning.

Then I thought, now it was early mind you – but I thought I saw a very large silhouette of a man standing at the edge of the exit way.  Then I was sure.  He moved.  He stepped to the side.  Now he was facing me, and just staring.  He was all dressed in black.  His head was shaved.  To me he looked like Jason from Friday the 13th

He put his hood over his head and stepped forward.  I froze.  I was afraid.  If I’d had a gun on me, I would have shot him – of that I have no doubt.   Quickly thoughts began running through my mind of what I might try to do.    Could I drive while the brushes were going?  Could I back up?  Should I beep the horn?

Rather than use my phone to dial 911 or something stupid like that – I used  it to take a picture of him?  I even took the time to swiftly turn off the flash so as not to enrage him.  Afterall, he is Jason – w/ out a mask.

Then he was standing right over me at the driver’s side window.  For some reason, I turned down the window a tiny bit.  I could hardly understand him.  He said something about ‘Making it better’.

I think he is the guy who waits for you to drive out and then wipes off the car for $5.

“I don’t have any cash” I said “No money”

He walked away.  He was soaked.

I drove away with my car covered in soap.

—— ~ —— ~ ——- ~ —— ~ —— ~ ——- ~ —— ~ —— ~ ——- ~

A couple of days later,  I went to the same gas station to get cash and coffee.  As I was checking out, I said to the manager, “Uhm how is your car wash working these days”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, I got a real scare the other day, I was in there and….”

“Bill”

“I’m sorry”

“He works here, well, he doesn’t really work here but you know, he uhm…”

“Yeah, I could tell”  ((we looked at each other eye to eye in that knowing way where no words are needed))

“Did he take his clothes off”

“I’m sorry???!!!”

“Yeah, he does that sometimes”

“No”

“Well that’s good”

I really am glad he didn’t take his clothes off – and that I didn’t have a gun on me.  I would have been that lady, who killed that poor guy who just wanted to make $5 (and looked like Jason).