An old man was seen wandering the streets of a very good neighbood and was found to be white. He was also not even confused at all. He was...WISE! As neighbors called in droves complaining of him existing,the police showed up. They were standing in a circle around him. I found them confounded by the way he handled the situation. He was calm and answering questions in a wise way. The police decided he was Jesus, but I knew differen. You see, I am not Christian! I am another religion which starts with a J. Can you guess?
I went in for the story. I asked him a question:"why is the sky blue?" This was a test question of his intelligence. He replied: "As the sun must set, it cannot remain light forever, there will be darkness." He had long brown and grey hair, and a long beard that matched. Then he said: " Sunrise doesn't last all morning, a cloudburst doesn't last all day." The cops were clapping and cheering. Frightened people emerged from their front doors, dressed in outfits. He said "My lone up iand left me, and then the big one: "ALL THINGS MUST PASS AWAY" When this was spoken I alone, knew his secret identity: GEORGE HARRISON!!!!!! Before he even began singing HARE KRISHNA HARE KRISHNA KRISHNA KRISHNA HARE HARE HARE RAMA HARE RAMA RAMA RAMA VOOROO VISHNU" Then the man took a tamborine from his pants, which was rather embarassing to the crowd. He began banging it and sang these words on and on. Where the crowd became angry, and slightly riled, he quickly switched to "my sweet Lord I really wanna see you but it takes so long my Lord I really wanna know you Lord, I really wanna go with you but it takes so long lmy Lord"
He kept on sing this over and over in a Gentle voice until all of the neighbors brought out musical instruments. I was glad that peace had arrived to the neighborhood. The police had brought out their batons and were strumming them like air guitars. I must admit that I did this myself for a while after truning off the mic. But then I realized that the camera was still on, so quickly switched back to looking serious and concerned.
To sum up, the old man who was very wise, and said other wise things to boot, was not handcuffed, and was invited to many peoples houses for dinner. He was Vegan, and politely refused, and I missed my big opportunity with George Harrison until last minute. Until WAIT I TOLD HIM I WAS VEGAN!!! He agreed to come over to my crummy dive. He did not mind the dive, but actually liked it. Fortunately, my sometimes-girlfriend, had bought some veggies for soup. I quickly threw away all the meat in the trash and lunch meat and a ton of stuff. This was a big story, huge.
I began washing jand chopping when he snatched away the knife and said "I'll do that mate" I do admit that this took me aback for a moment as I thought he might stab me. would George Harrison stab me??? But no, he began busily chopping food and mashing garlic with a decorative mortar and pestle that my girlfriend has bought me and was on the shelf. I had a garlic masher in the drawer. It was a fancy ceramic one, but I said nothing. He was singing a song in Hindi about Vishnu, I believe, when a bad thing happened. He looked in the trash. He put down the knife. The conversation went as follows.
George Harrison: You are not clean?
Me: I take a shower every day!
GH: No! The kitchen! The house, the Refridgerator! It is filthy with meats!, Cow!
Me: What meats? Cow? At that point I managed a puzzled look.
GH: (shakes trash) You LIE. I cannot sit at table which a man who eats cattle and lies!
Me: (begs him to stay)
GH: Well, ok, mate, you look like a fine enough bloke, better than the others, surely, solid enou' working-class bloke you are, just a bi' of a lying sun of a bitch. I know you believe I am George Harrison, I am just a filthy bum off the street, but would like the dinner, if you don't mind, and go and write some sort of article. Don't care what it is. Know all their lyrics, I do, They were the best band, best of the lot, although the Clash are bloody good poets do they not? Wish they were alive in our time, eh, Mr, fake name? A fake for a fake, I call ye, and what on bloody earth do you expect? He his dead, You idiot, died a long while back, but I pull it off in certain neighborhoods, and with the coppers, I do. Don't look sad, mate, we are both nowhere men, ain't tha' the cats meow? Hope they enjoy your fake article, go ahead and publish it, let me have a good shower after the soup is done, fetch some meat from the trash, and get to cooking!"
**Important note: After this article I will be writing novels about all of my exciting experiences as a reporter, this one first. I was, initially, very pissed, but, now realize that I sort of deserved it. And the broken mortar and pestle, well, they were a shitty gift for a guy, face it. So after this artlicle, I will write in my own name my own articles, and on my own topics. Then a book! I would like too thank all of my loyal wonderful readers, except the onwes with the nasty e-mails