I was going to blog about butter chicken, but I'll put that on my food blog. So, instead, here is what is on my mind today--where the heck are all the "characters?"
When I was growing up, my father had a bunch of acquaintances in his 'hood who could only be considered characters. They had cool nicknames, and some were beyond quirky.
I grew up surrounded by Hootch, Googsie, Big T, Red, a couple Lefty's, Uncle Bunny, Ded's, Alfred the Great, Joe the Indian, Whitey, and "That Adversary Guy." While each had their own strange backstory, one stood out. As you have probably guessed, "That Adversary Guy" was the most interesting of the bunch.
I'm pretty sure "That Adversary Guy" had a real name. I never heard it. Hanging out at the garage on the corner, when anyone talked about "That Adversary Guy" everybody knew who they meant.
So, how did he get that name? The guy had some bad luck from time to time. Nothing horrible, just normal stuff. Like, his car needed gas. He was convinced that he didn't use a lot of gas, but that it was being siphoned out of his car at night by...say it with me as I'm sure you see where this is going...His Adversary.
A tear in his jacket pocket? I wonder how it got there?
I'll take "His Adversary, for $500, Alex." A hole in his shoe?
Once again, his adversary.
You are getting it now.
But he wasn't totally crazy. He lived in a house, had a job, dressed well (except for when "His Adversary" did those dastardly deeds) and drove a nice car, although it was prone to having gas siphoned by you know who. And the guy had normal conversations about everything else.
If only his adversary would have left him alone.