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So I Answered an Axe Murderer

By Chag Holland



I have long maintained that I attract psychopaths (present company excluded, of course). I have dealt with strange people coming up to me my entire life, wanting to talk to me, befriend me, and worse. It happens so often that it sometimes seems like they've been traveling their whole lives, waiting for the day when they find me so they can ask me some stupid question. I am their mecca (but once again, you're the exception and not the rule).

My daughter and I were in the men's room in Burger King. She was in the stall, I was standing near the door, and there was a guy standing at the urinal. While I waited for her to finish, the guy went over to the sink, washed his hands, and, while drying his hands with a paper towel, started staring at me. I became a little nervous. Zoey came out of the stall and began washing her hands. The man continued to stare at me and dry his hands.

Finally, the crazy hand-drying man spoke. "Can I axe you a question?"



Instinctively, I placed myself between my daughter and the crazy hand-drying question-asking man as the voices inside my head yelled, "Run!" I hate hearing this question.

First off all, any time I hear the words "axe" and "you" used in the same sentence, I start to sweat. I am a paranoid person and as a paranoid person, I believe that I will meet an extraordinary demise. No cancer or some long-term malady for me; I truly believe someone will sneak up on me and murder me one day. During my single days, I assumed some psychotic Harpie would do me in. Nowadays, I'm constantly looking over my shoulder for some insane person who believes I've wronged them in some way. So when I heard the guy's question, the first thing that crossed my mind was, "Today may be the day."

Second, since I live in the South, I'm used to complete strangers coming up to me in parking lots and asking, "Can I ask you a question?" and quickly following it with "Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior?" I have found that the best ways to deal with these people is to tell them what they want to hear, act like you speak a different language, or vomit on them. While the first two actions are effective, the third method will get them out of your hair the fastest.

Third, if I'm in a public restroom, I'm there to do my business. I'm not looking for a friend or to strike up a conversation with some lonely bastard. There's an unwritten law of restroom etiquette that states you should never look at or talk to another patron while in the restroom, especially if you find yourself elbow to elbow with someone at The Scariest Place On Earth, the trough urinal. Unless you're about to say, "Excuse me, but your hair is on fire" or "Your kid just fell in the toilet," keep your thoughts to yourself.

Fourth, if I have one or both of my kids with me, I am definitely not interested in anything you have to say. I don't want my kids to have any contact with adult strangers, especially in the bathroom.

"Sure," I reluctantly replied to the crazy hand-drying question-asking axe murderer while mentally preparing myself for either a sermon or death.

"You know how Verizon bought Alltel?"

"Um, yeah?"

"Do you think I can just switch over to Verizon? Or do I have to wait until my contract is over? I would think I could just call them and make the switch and get one of their plans. Their plans are better, I think."

I looked at my shirt to see if anyone had secretly pinned a Verizon name tag on my chest. Nope.

I looked to see if I was wearing a hat which read "Stupid Questions Answered Here." Nope.

I looked in the mirror to make sure I couldn't be mistaken for the "Can you hear me now?" guy. Nope.

Finally, I said. "I don't really know. You might want to talk to Verizon about that, not me."

As we hurried out to the parking lot, my daughter asked me, "What was that man talking to you about, Daddy?"

"He was asking me questions about his phone."

"Why did he ask you?" Even my six-year-old daughter could see that the crazy hand-drying question-asking axe murderer shouldn't have been asking me that question.

"I have no idea, Zoey. No idea at all."

Next time, we're going to McDonald's.


A former rock star, programmer, fashion model, thespian, ballroom dance instructor, and master of hyperbole, Chag Holland is now married to a former Sports Illustrated swimsuit model and is a stay-at-home dad to the two most beautiful children in the world. He'd show you pictures but he thinks you're all psychopathic stalkers. Chag can also be found at Cynical Dad.

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"Try as hard as we may for perfection, the net result of our labors is an amazing variety of imperfectness. We are surprised at our own versatility in being able to fail in so many different ways." -- Samuel McChord Crothers