Poor Flo

Today, as with most Sunday's, I took my six mile walk. It was warm, although overcast. About halfway through my journey, I stopped and nosed around the thrift store, and purchased a box of tissues next door at the dollar tree. I continued down Valley Drive past the duck pond and the cemetery. It was all very pleasant and uneventful.

I made my way over to Salina Street, and to Aldi's for a bottle of water, and a box of Bran Flakes. It was about a quarter mile from the grocery store that the universe decided that once again there was weirdness to transpire, and that I was to witness it.

Her name was Florence Delaney McFadden, and she was no taller than 4'8". I suspect that 85 would be my guess for both her age and weight. Not to be unkind, but she may have had but four teeth in her head, which were horribly tarnished from a lifetime of cigarette smoking. She approached me in a terrified state. She grabbed my forearm as she spoke. "Can you please help me?" Sympathetically, I asked what was the matter? She told me that she was being followed. She pointed to a vacant building across the street. That building sits lonely in this residential area. Years ago it was a real estate agency.

Flo was breathless as she spoke. "I'm being followed. There's a man hiding over there behind that building. He wants to kill me." She yanked at my arm to accentuate that last statement. She pled with me to call the police to save her.

I guess that I should have been startled, activated superhero powers or something, instead I just took out my phone as I stared at the building. It never crossed my mind how I would react if Flo's would be assassin sprang to action. I suppose meditation has taken it's toll in that there's not a lot that gets me worked up anymore. I've become Problem-Solver-Man; "Whatdawegothere?"

I touched Flo's arm and dailed 911. I said "Hello," four or five times as did the 911 operator. Neither of us could hear the other for some reason. I ended the call, and told Flo what happened. She was frantic and started pacing. My phone rang, I didn't recognize the number so, I rejected the call.  While trying to calm Flo, I tried 911 again. The same thing happened again. "Oh please, we've got to do something," Flo demanded!

My phone rang again, it was that same number from minutes earlier. I answered this time. "Hello, this is 911, we got two calls from this number. Are you okay?" I quickly explained the failed calls and Flo's  plight. I was asked my name, Flo's, and a description of her. As I gave the information, I noticed Flo was wearing an old school lavender Irish cable knit turtle neck. She was wearing a rag wool zip-front cardigan of the same massive weight over the turtle neck. Uncharitable, I thought "Geez, I guess old people are always cold." Pleated denim slacks rounded out the ensemble.

A cruiser would be immediately dispatched, I was told.

I shared this with Flo. As she repeated my words, she became more calm.

A couple in their late 50's approached us. Flo immediately told them of the man following her and his murderous intent. The couple smiled awkwardly, and stared at me. It was obvious to me that they didn't believe Flo. I offered that I had contacted 911 and all. Flo reiterated her fears. The woman gave me a look as she tilted her head. She thought Flo might be nuts. Her husband confirmed this in a greater smile.

A couple minutes later an awful blue coloured vehicle pulled into the driveway next to where we stood. I am not sure of the make or model except that it was ugly. A man of roughly 60 years exited the vehicle. He was a good sixty pounds overweight, hadn't shaved or showered in a week. He wore a blue T-shirt that matched his vehicle. I imagine blue was the man's signature color. He told us that he was a friend of Flo's sister, and that Flo once owned the now vacant real estate building across the street. The couple said they remembered Flo.

The man had Flo's sister at the ready on a flip phone. Yes, a flip phone. The couple and I stared at the phone. I imagine we were all thinking the same thing.

The entire time the couple smiled as if they were extras in an SNL skit. Everybody was actually starting to creep me out. I took a half step to my right. We glanced at blue-man. He asked Flo if she wanted to go with him. Instead of looking at Flo, the couple looked to me. I whispered "I wouldn't go with him either. " At the same time, the couple nodded and smiled in agreement.

Flo was now a different person. She screamed and roared into the telephone at her sister. She said that this man, blue-man was trying to kill her... again. Blue-man looked at us with a weird smile, as if we now should understand the trouble with Flo. The couple did, I was a wee slow on the uptake.

Flo became calmer. Blue-man said that it was the second time today she had "gotten out." Uncomfortable, I asked the couple about their dog. It was a 14 year old Japanese something or other with the shakes. Blue-man asked if the dog was hyper, "Why does he shake like that." I was pretty through with blue-man, that poor beautiful dog, Flo, and the smiling couple, but I couldn't leave. I had given 911 my name, and all these characters were unsettling. I assumed that poor Flo has dementia. I felt said for her, in part because of the presence of blue-man in her life. He was creepy, and hadn't told us enough about their connection.

Fortunately, a police cruiser slowly approached. Flo freaked as he passed us. She began jumping in the air yelling, "Police, come back!" I told her that he was just turning his vehicle around to get to our side of the street. She seemed pleased and quieted.

The officer exited the vehicle and Flo started towards him. "Flo, how are you?" He knows her? I didn't hear her reply. I was mesmerized by the fact that the officer literally looked 17 years old, and "carved from cream cheese," to swipe a "Steel Magnolias" line.

I looked at the smiling couple, an sarcastically announced that I was going to go and start dinner. The woman told me "You are a very good person," and her husband agreed. I smiled.

I turned to walk away. Not stopping, I told the officer that I was the person who called. "Thanks man," he offered.

That was five hours ago, and my head still hurts.