Say hello to my little friend

I wanna talk for a little while about a guy named Chuvie McDervish. He is about 6'9" and weighs 550lbs. He's got long blonde hair on top with it butched and dyed orange around the sides and back; with dark skin with slanted eyes. He talks with an accent that is a cross between Alaskan and Spanish, but it's the highest pitch you've ever heard. He dresses like he just stepped out of 1963. He says that Jimi Hendrix is his favourite musician, but he only has posters of Cheryl Crow and Waylon Jennings up in his dorm room.

This guy can go for weeks on end without eating much of anything, but usually once a month he spends his entire paycheck at Old Country Buffet. I just don't know how he does it.

Right now he is studying neucular biology but dreams of one day being a librarian. His favourite author is either Ernest Hemingway or Saul Bellow, but he loves to sit and read Shakespear and Dilbert.

He's got either a girl or boyfriend, neither one of them is sure. It is a cross-dressing-hermaphoradite. When I say cross dressing, I mean that one day it wears a dress and combat boots and the next day some khakis and a crewneck with a trendy pair of Converse. The point is that they get along pretty well and neither of them has any complaints.

It's not like you don't notice either one of them in a crowd because you really do. Even though you don't say anything with your mouth, the look on your face just cries out "Dear God, what the hell is that?" And then you wonder if you should ask if they need help or just keep walking...after all, the look in their eyes says that they too have their discomforts.

You decide to keep on going, but you know as well as I do that when you get to your dinner party that they'll be the main topic and how sickened you felt for whatever reason.

Most likely you'll go to sleep that night with the image in your mind, only to wake up and wonder how badly you think you need counseling.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the globe, somewhere in remote Africa or India an American man is spotted wearing a white Armani suit. His hair is cut nicely and he smells of fine aftershave, while his hands look like they've never been out of his pockets; and the natives look on at him they can't help but think the same thing as you did.