There's a guy who comes to the bookstore where I work whom we call "Tricorne" (Three-Horns). This is because he wears a hat with three horns on it. If this isn't testimony to how fucking crazy he is, let me continue. From what we can gather, he is from somewhere in the former Yugoslavia, and my theory has is that he witnessed some pretty messed up things over there. He is fascinated with Hitler (regularly saluting him and occasionally lifting my hand in salute as well) and the words I have been able to understand as he jabbers on in his language have been: partisan, gestapo, ss, etc. I don't know if he actually supports Hitler or is trying to make a greater point about genocide/ethnic cleansing, but he just sort of mumbles out these words as he walks around the bookstore.
One time, he came into the store and pointed at a female co-workers genitals and said, "Marie Antoinette." Then he pointed to himself and said "Louis XVI." Maybe your French history isn't good enough to know what he is insinuating, but you can probably guess.
Another time he came in and pointed to my boss, claiming he was a member of the French resistance movement. He then said that I was a Nazi (which in his fucked up world means that we get along swimmingly) and that I killed my boss.
For all of his psychoticness and Hitler-talk, I think he's probably my favorite crazy person ever. Having lived and worked in Santa Cruz California for several years (where Reagan shut down a mental institution while he was governor, sending all the people desperately in need of psychiatric aid out onto the streets of the small town), I've had my share of batty regulars. Some of them would hang out back at the end of the night, waiting for us to hand over the remaining rice and peanut sauce. They were all ok, but kept their distance.
I'm sort of a fan of TriCorne because he's very happy to talk with us and get to know us and show us his passport and RL Stine novels. As far as crazies go, he's sort of a pleasure to have around.
Leave a comment