Pet Peeve No. 09 - Personal Questions From Strangers

As if it's anybody's business. I wish I had a shilling for every time I've heard it.

I have always been tall. As a pre-teen, I was the one who reached up and reset the traps on the roof.

I'm much older now. Much, much older. The years have taken their toll: the cantileverd load, the weight on the knees. It is sometimes very difficult for me to stand completely upright. And yet they feel compelled to ask.

A complete stranger will walk up to me. He will be hesitant and he will never touch... no tugging at the shirt sleeve, no tapping on the shoulder (if he can reach it). He will laugh nervously with hands in pockets, like perhaps he should have thought twice before approaching me. Yes, perhaps he should have.

But without fail, his stupidity will gain the upper hand and the question will spill out: "So, heh heh, how tall are you, anyway?"

I will bend down so he can smell my breath. His eyes will water. His lips will tremble. I will stare straight through to the back of his skull and reply: "Why do you care? Do you have meat on your roof?" Then I will rumble a low growl deep in my throat and turn away.

Sometimes the stranger will wet himself. This gives me great pleasure, especially at the grocer's. "Cleanup on Aisle Nine!" My turn to laugh.

So I'll tell you, what the hell. Then you'll never have to ask. I'm well over eight feet tall on my hind legs and that's all you need to know. Give or take an inch or two for the slump, what's the difference when you're talking about eight feet?

I smell meat. Heh heh.