JERK OF THE WEEK: Sherlock Walt, and the Cases of the Scrambled Eggs and Missing Pepsi Bag
The previous time I wrote about the gym in Jerks of the Week, I vowed to ask Homeless Grudge Woman what the hell she's doing by continuously walking around the pool a dozen times and freaking everyone out in the process. I also posted a picture, proving that this abomination is not some figment of my imagination:
I have not been able to confront her about her crazy actions because I haven't seen her around. She hasn't stopped coming to the gym; I've just had bad luck, as we haven't been going to the gym at the same time, apparently. I discovered this when a friend of mine snapped a picture of Homeless Grudge Woman an hour before I arrived:
I was so frustrated that instead of commenting on the new red shirt she probably found in a dumpster somewhere, I lashed out at my terrible luck via text:
Me: Ugh why am I never there to ask her what the hell she's doing!?!?
Friend: Her timing is impeccable. She just finished about 12 laps!
Me: Impressive! I think that's a record for her.
Friend: I know, she usually cuts out after 7-8!
Me: She must be building up her stamina. All the hard work is paying off!
Friend: I know, did ya see the muscle tone!?
Me: If I didn't know any better, I'd think she was training for the Olympics.
I do know better, but not nearly enough. Why does she walk around the pool instead of the track? Why does she think the government is spying on her? Which trash can did she find that red shirt in, because I'm kind of jealous and want one? These are all questions that need to be answered, so I've been going to the gym more frequently so I can see her and find out.
I unfortunately haven't had much luck in that regard. However, I've collected plenty of writing material, as my gym is full of so many other freaks and weirdos. In fact, everything in this entry happened in just one visit.
I kind of figured things would be bad when I heard a conversation between two women in the lobby. They were both in their 50s, and this one white lady with red hair was talking to some fat black woman. I overheard what they were saying as I was passing by...
Red-Headed Woman: Why don't you go swimming for exercise?
Black Woman: I have fearness! A lotta fearness!
Red-Headed Woman: Fearness?
Black Woman: Yeah, a lotta fearness! I have fearness of the wata! The wata givin' me fearness!
My Microsoft Word document looks like it's bleeding right now from all of the red squiggly lines in that conversation. It apparently disagrees with the black woman that "fearness" is a word. But when you have an uncanny case of hydrophobia, I guess you can create whatever sort of words you wish. I guess it's better to speak like an idiot rather than live a life of utter fearness.
I swiped my card and walked right toward the men's locker room. I took a piss and then went to the sink to wash my hands when I was taken aback. In one of the sinks, there happened to be giant clumps of scrambled eggs and ketchup everywhere. I ordinarily wouldn't mind scrambled eggs and ketchup, but not when it unexpectedly appears in front of me in a bathroom sink.
What were the scrambled eggs and ketchup doing there? Why did someone dump them into the sink instead of the trash can? And who the hell brings scrambled eggs and ketchup into the men's locker room - let alone the gym - to begin with?
My thoughts were interrupted when Grandpa Pimp walked into the bathroom area of the locker room. Grandpa Pimp, for those of you who don't know, is an old man who wears a Pi symbol around his neck. He always shows me pictures of his hot granddaughters and keeps telling me that he wants to set me up with them even though I have a girlfriend. He complained about both of them to me...
Grandpa Pimp: Hello, young man! I told you about my youngest granddaughter, yes? Let me show you a picture of my youngest granddaughter.
Me: You've shown me pictures. Lots of pictures.
Grandpa Pimp: Ah, I told you that she's going to journalism school in London, yes?
Grandpa Pimp: She's going into school stupid, and she'll come out of school stupid!
Uhh... OK? Why are you telling a total stranger that your granddaughter is a moron? I mean, granted, anyone who wants to leave America to go anywhere for more than a week is an idiot, but she's your own flesh and blood. Plus, she's young and stupid, so there's plenty of time for her to learn what's what.
Grandpa Pimp: I'll tell you why she's stupid. She doesn't want to marry a man. She just wants to have fun. All of the boys want to date her because she's pretty, but she chases them all away. Do you know why?
Me: Why's that?
Grandpa Pimp: Because she's spoiled. All she wants to do on dates is go to see Broadway musicals in New York. She wants to go to the opera. She wants to go to art museums. She wants to go shopping and buy expensive clothes. She wants to eat at expensive restaurants. No man wants this. He wants to have fun with a girl; not spend hundreds of dollars every night!
Wow. I never thought I'd agree with Grandpa Pimp, but I was completely with him on this. To any woman reading this, if you want a guy to take you to the opera or to Broadway or to fancy-shmancy restaurants and museums, keep dreaming. It's not happening. I mean, sure, it'll occur on special occasions, but no real dude is going to want to do this every weekend, or every month, for that matter. And if you do find a guy who always wants to see operas with you, then he's gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but don't be too surprised when you walk in on him banging his intern Francois on your dining room table.
Just when I thought Grandpa Pimp and I would be on the same page, he began complaining about his eldest granddaughter.
Grandpa Pimp: My other granddaughter, she's smarter because she already married a man who will take care of her. But she's not that smart, you know why?
Grandpa Pimp: Because she married a China man!
Grandpa Pimp: She's stupid! Why would she marry a China man? Her father is ashamed. He's the vice president of American Express, and he wishes he could introduce his daughter and nice son-in-law, but he has to say, "This is my daughter, and her China-man husband!"
I found myself wondering if Grandpa Pimp's son actually says that. It made me wonder if it was worth befriending more Asian people so I could come up to my current friends and say, "Hey man, how's it going, this is my China-man friend."
How does the "China man" deal with this anyway? Like, it's not his fault that he's Chinese; this girl he married loves him, and that's all that should matter, right? It's a bummer for him that both his father- and grandfather-in-law both despise him, but I suppose there are worse things.
Anyway, Grandpa Pimp went on to say something strange.
Grandpa Pimp: I always talk to my wife about you.
Me: What? Really?
Grandpa Pimp: Yes.
Me: What do you say?
Grandpa Pimp: How I wish you could marry one of my granddaughters! But my oldest granddaughter is married to a China man, and my youngest granddaughter is too stupid!
First-world problems, I guess? I told Grandpa Pimp that I was flattered and then excused myself because I wanted to go swimming. I got to the pool, and to my horror, I saw that it was completely occupied by kids. The two lifeguards on duty looked like they wanted to kill themselves.
The lifeguard closest to me came over and told me that the pool would reopen at 4:45. It was currently 4:25, so I had 20 minutes to kill. I turned around and started toward the locker room when the other lifeguard, a big-time stoner, walked toward the first lifeguard.
Stoner Lifeguard: Yo, can you check the baby pool, I think some kid pooped in it.
Other Lifeguard: Why don't you do it?
Stoner Lifeguard: I dunno, I just wanna chill out.
I normally wouldn't have mentioned this conversation, but I noticed a red stain on Stoner Lifeguard's t-shirt. It was a ketchup stain... which meant that the scrambled eggs and ketchup from the locker room bathroom were his!
Of course... it made so much sense. Stoner Lifeguard got baked prior to work - or at the beginning of his shift - went out and got breakfast from somewhere, and scarfed it down in the bathroom so no one would see him. Case solved!
Little did I know that there would be another mystery at the gym that very day. I went back into the locker room and heard a familiar voice yelling at one of the camp counselors. It was Grandpa Pimp. I went over to see what was wrong.
Grandpa Pimp: MY BAG IS GONE! SOMEONE TOOK MY BAG! ONE OF YOUR KIDS TOOK MY BAG!
Camp Counselor: It wasn't one of my kids. It was one of the other camps.
Grandpa Pimp: WHAT KIND OF PERSON GOES INTO A LOCKER AND STEALS A BAG!?
Camp Counselor: I don't know, sir, but like I said, it wasn't one of my kids.
Grandpa Pimp: THESE DAMN KIDS THINK THEY CAN GO INTO LOCKERS AND STEAL BAGS LIKE THEY ARE STEALING CANDY! AND YOU CAN'T CONTROL THOSE KIDS!
Camp Counselor: Like I said, sir, none of my kids stole it.
Grandpa Pimp: WHAT DO I DO NOW!? ALL OF MY CLOTHES WERE IN THE BAG! YOU WILL HAVE TO REIMBURSE ME FOR MY CLOTHES!
The camp counselor tried to calm Grandpa Pimp down, but it wasn't working. The old man was extremely furious. The counselor's only reprieve was when Grandpa Pimp saw me and began complaining about everything to me. He was shouting that his "Pepsi bag" was stolen, and that all of his valuables were in there. Eventually, the assistant manager of the gym came into the locker room and asked him some questions, such as...
Assistant Gym Manager: Did you lock your locker?
Grandpa Pimp: NO! WHY WOULD I LOCK MY LOCKER!?
Assistant Gym Manager: That's what it's for?
Grandpa Pimp: I DIDN'T LOCK IT, BUT THAT DOESN'T GIVE ANYONE THE RIGHT TO OPEN LOCKERS AND TAKE WHAT'S IN THEM!
Assistant Gym Manager: I agree with you, but you should've locked your locker. What does your bag look like?
Grandpa Pimp: IT IS A BLACK BAG WITH A PEPSI SYMBOL ON IT! ALL OF MY PRECIOUS ITEMS ARE IN THERE!!!
The assistant gym manager told Grandpa Pimp that none of the kids had left yet, so it was possible that the bag was still in the building. Minutes later, the assistant gym manager returned to the locker room, holding a black bag. He asked, "Is this yours?" to Grandpa Pimp. I was about to interject and say "no" because it had a Sierra Mist logo on it instead of a Pepsi symbol, but I was apparently wrong.
"MY BAG! MY BAG! YOU FOUND MY BAG!"
Grandpa Pimp unzipped it and began rummaging through it. I asked the assistant gym manager where it was, and he said it was downstairs in the camp room. He said that one of the kids mistook it for his bag, which is why he grabbed it.
I found this to be a logical explanation until I realized how unlikely it was that there were two people at my gym who had Sierra Mist bags. I was about to comment on this, but Grandpa Pimp interrupted me.
Grandpa Pimp: MY UNDERWEAR!!!
Assistant Gym Manager: What's wrong?
Grandpa Pimp: MY LUCKY UNDERWEAR IS MISSING!!!
Assistant Gym Manager: Lucky underwear?
Grandpa Pimp: YES MY LUCKY UNDERWEAR!!! I ALWAYS WEAR IT WHEN I NEED LUCK, BUT IT'S GONE! SOMEONE STOLE MY LUCKY UNDERWEAR!!!
I would've offered to help Grandpa Pimp, but it was now 4:45, and the pool was opening up to members again. Besides, searching for an 80-year-old man's lucky underwear was one case I didn't want to crack.