I love working in San Francisco, but…

…where do all these freaks come from? My god – I saw this one beautiful specimen arise from the bushes in his pajamas, scratch himself, yawn, belch, and walk off as if he was just getting out of bed. But this was of course 5 in the afternoon. And then there was the freak in the Foot Locker shoe store who was rubbing up against people all freaky like, and everyone pretened the psycho just wasn’t there. And finally the guy that got on the bus and promptly began a steady precussion of flatulence as he graced himself down the aisle drinking his 40 ounce malt beverage ingeniously concealed in an everyday plain brown paper bag, as if no-one would suspect a thing…