For want of a better title:
The Crazy Old Man
Based on a true story

{Brice}

Elias and Miro go into the supermarket to get drinks. I sit down on the flaky-paint-covered bench outside, with the three warm pizzas in their boxes on my lap. It’s pretty dark, and no one’s around.
Wrong. There is someone around. Just an old guy in a dinner suit, walking along the footpath, muttering to himself. He has a blue, plastic shopping bag.
He stops and looks at me.
‘Hello boy,’ he says.
‘Hi,’ I say, smiling and expecting him to continue on his way.
But he doesn’t.
‘Can I sit viz you?’ he asks.
‘I … don’t see why not.’
The old man sits down next to me. He smells like Brussels sprouts.
‘Do you know vhat I haff in zis bag?’ he asks me.
‘Ahhh… no,’ I say.
‘Lots of soap,’ he says with a devilish grin. ‘Lots and lots AND LOTS of soap. I like to keep clean.
‘Tell me:’ he says, ‘do you dance, boy?’
‘Um … no?’ I say. Who is this crazy old man?
‘You don’t dance?!’ he exclaims. ‘Didn’t your muzzer ever teach you? Vhat ever to you do all day?’
I shrug my shoulders. Elias and Miro are making their way out of the supermarket.
‘My girlfriend and I, ve dance all night – until ze sun rises. Because vhen I dance, I go vild!
‘Tell me: do you speak German?’


{Miro}

‘Uh-oh,’ says Leah as she swipes the last barcode. ‘Looks like Brice’s in trouble.’
‘Why?’ I ask her.
‘See that guy sitting next to him?’
Elias and I look out through the front of the shop to where Brice is sitting. There’s an old guy in a black suit sitting next to him.
‘Yeah,’ says Elias. ‘Who’s he?’
‘This old crazy guy. ‘E’s always coming in and talking to us, telling us we’re real pretty and asking us to marry ‘im? Weirdo. One time ‘e grabbed Zoe, and we ‘ad ta call the cops.’
Elias starts looking a bit worried. He takes his blue, plastic shopping bag, and we go through the automatic doors. He walk over to the bench where Brice and the Crazy Old Man are sitting.
‘Tell me:’ the Crazy Old Man says to Brice, ‘do you speak German?’
‘Ah, no,’ says Brice, standing up and looking at us, ‘but he does.’
Brice is pointing at me. I don’t speak German. Brice knows I don’t speak German. I’ve learnt bits of Khmer, Italian, Japanese, French and Spanish at different stages in my life, but I only know about five words in German.
‘Hello boyzz,’ says the Crazy Old Man.
‘I know, like, five words in German,’ I say to the Crazy Old Man. ‘Are you from Germany?’
‘Yes!’ he says. ‘My son liffs in Germany. He works in a … a … He iss a butcher.’
‘Have you ever been there?’ asks Elias.
‘No!’ shouts the Crazy Old Man. ‘Neffer!’
‘Um, we’re going home now,’ says Brice.
‘Can I come viz you?’ asks the Crazy Old Man.
‘No,’ says Brice.
‘Don’t you have a home?’ I ask the Crazy Old Man.
‘I haff three,’ he says, ‘just around ze corner, and all right next to each ozzer.’

{Elias} What a stupid crazy old man! As if he could afford three houses! ‘That is so sad,’ I said, as we walked back to Brice’s house. ‘Why?’ asks Miro. ‘’E seems pretty happy. ‘Nd ‘es got three houses.’ ‘Yeah, right,’ I said. ‘Anyway, ‘e just thinks he’s happy. He probably sleeps outside three houses.’ ‘Well wouldn’t that mean he’s happy then?’ asked Miro. ‘If you think you’re happy, you must be happy.’ ‘Not if you just don’t know any better.’ ‘What’s happy then?’ ‘Having enough money, a nice house, nice car, hot girlfriend who’s nice to ya.’ ‘So it’s to do with your lifestyle?’ says Brice. ‘Yeah.’ ‘Nothing to do with emotion?’ asks Miro. ‘Yeah. It makes you happy.’ ‘But I thought you said that was what being happy was,’ says Miro. ‘And why would that make you happy?’ asks Brice. ‘I dunno. Because I’d ‘ave lotsa stuff.’ ‘How do you know that’d make you happy?’ asks Brice. ‘Rich people aren’t happy. They always end up getting divorced and the fighting over everything.’ ‘That’s because they need it to be happy,’ I say. Don’t they know anything? They have to be as sad as the Crazy Old Man.

{Crazy Old Man} I jog along the footpath home. I am perfect for the marathon. I am going to be in the Olympics one day! I can’t wait to get back home to my family. They love me so much and they are all so proud of me! I go to my first house and unlock the door. ‘I am home!’ I shout. ‘He’s home! He’s home!’ shout my family. ‘At last, he’s home!’ All three spotlights focused in on me and a shower of confetti and streamers falls from the ceiling. Everyone is so happy to see me! Benji runs up to me, panting. He jumps up with his paws over my shoulders and licks my face. Mummy waddles over and gives me a hug. ‘My darlink boy!’ she says. My father comes and shakes my hand. ‘I’m prout of you, boy’ he says to me, and I feel my heart race with pride. ‘You know, we always hoped you’d turn out like this,’ says Mummy. ‘You’re perfect.’ I am happy.