Monday, April 21, 2008

Walter the Indian Kid

Walter the Indian kid walks into the room. He's weird, he's flamboyant, and he won't stop touching me. He puts on a pair of over sized sunglasses and laughs like he's some kind of crackhead. Laughs like over sized sunglasses are the funniest thing since undersized MANdex. Like I said, he's weird. He spins around once with his arms suspended over his head like a ballerina and sits down. He always does this before he sits down. Like I said, he's flamboyant. "I AM SEVERUS SNAPE!" he calls out and starts stroking my hair. Severus Snape, yeah I have no idea where the hell that came from. But like I said, he won't stop touching me. He annoys all of us, but it's getting to the point where we have gone from laughing at his oddities to threatening to strangle him with his metallic scarf if he doesn't stop acting like a doped-up mime from Hell.


Walter the Indian kid has yet to grasp the idea that you cannot speak while the make-up artist is putting lipstick on you before the show.

"What are everyone's views on death?"

Walter the Indian kid has yet to grasp the idea that people shouldn't start a death discussion five minutes before they're supposed to star in a comedy.

"Walter, shut up."

Only one, by the name of Mitch, has the nerve to tell it like it is to Walter.

"Fine. If you don't want me to talk, I'll just have to sing."

Where exactly Walter found the guitar we'll never know. But we do know that he sings like shit.

"Walter, shut up."


Walter the Indian kid seems to think that anything to do with drugs is both scandalous and hilarious.


Walter suddenly becomes very serious.


Walter never asks a question before announcing the fact that a question is about to be asked.

"Who HERE has ever been high?"

"For someone who has never done drugs before Walter, you're pretty obsessed."

"Well my ex-best-friend started a drug cult, and I'm thinking about joining."

Mitch looks rather pissed.

"What the hell is a drug cult, Walter?!"

"It's a cult where they do...drugs."

"Drugs, like meth? Coke? Heroin? What, Walter? What kinds of drugs do they do?"


"That's called HIGH SCHOOL, dumb ass. That's called BEING A TEENAGER."

Mitch does drugs.


Mitch likes drugs.

"It's not a CULT, Walter. It's WHAT NORMAL PEOPLE DO."

A lot.

"So Walter, who don't you tell us about this EX-best-friend of yours? You've mentioned him quite often."

"No. It's personal."

"But you've brought him up many, many times..."


Walter screams sometimes. You never know when it's coming.

"I need to get into my costume."

Walter takes off all of his clothes in the presence of everyone sometimes. You
do know when that's coming.

"He's doing it again."

Walter likes to put on tap shoes and tap on over to wherever I'm sitting. Then Walter bursts into song.

"High on a hill! Lonely goat herd! Burn in hell! Look like a turd!"

"I just don't think those are the words, Walter."

"I know. It's a combination of songs."

"What song says, "look like a turd?" "

"You wouldn't know."

"Well thank you for serenading me, Walter."

"I'm not serenading you."

"Well you're an inch from my face so I figured..."


Walter likes to hug everyone sometimes.

"I'm really sorry, Walter, but I don't like to be touched."

...but I really don't like to be touched...

"I'm sick, you don't want to catch my cold, Walter."

...and neither does the make-up artist...

"Touch me again and I'll break your neck you twirling piece of shit."

...and neither does Mitch.

Walter the Indian kid walks onto the stage. He's weird, he's flamboyant, and he won't stop touching me. He stomps around the stage like some kind of troll when the rest of us find it more natural to walk as if we are normal humans. Like I said, he's weird. He moves his hands so much when he speaks that he smacked me in the face and smacked himself in his own face. Then his eyes began to water so he stood there saying nothing, waiting for his eyes to dry up. This lasted about 6 minutes. Like I said, he's flamboyant. He stroked my arm hairs with one hand and ate a hot dog with the other. Then he switched hands and stroked my arm with the hot dog hand, getting mustard all over my arm hairs. Then the mustard dried and it looked as if I had yellow dandruff. Which, by the way, is disgusting. But like I said, he won't stop touching me. He's Walter the Indian kid.


Rory said...

Walter is Columbine-style skeery.

julieta...not such a niƱa? said...

this is my favorite. isn't great how he has no concept of personal space? or normal social conventions? or when someone reeeeeeeaaally doesn't want talk to him? *sigh* tsk tsk... i suppose he'll never learn. so it is revealed. how bored i am on sunday nights and how in love i am with your blog.