The characters that make up this world, thank fuck for them.
Those with crazy eccentricities, who are a little nuts around the edges, or those who are simply larger than life.
These are the ones that have shaped my life so far:
My father. He doesn't know what a clock is – biologically or literally. He's still a kid at heart, and he will still phone me at the oddest hours - day and night – to tell me something funny. Or like nowadays, for dating advice. Sharp sense of humour, a genius, a heart of gold.
Freddy Krueger (Of Nightmare on Elm Street fame). The dude's got a face that looks like a pizza, has knives for fingers – possibly the most frightful non-character in the world. He eats little children, laughs in the face of death (for he never dies), and is handy with a chainsaw and other machine-operated gardening and household equipment. Which he merrily slays people with.
If I came home to Freddy chilling in my lounge, well, I'd probably have an aneurisym, but then offer him a stiff tequila in the hope he won't dismember me and/or feed off my leg. Maybe he just needs to get laid or something.
The Doff People & The Genius People. And how these two can mix. I always find this most fascinating. Someone can come across as super vacuous or ditzy, and yet, have a PhD in quantum physics. It always amazes me. Pure geeks aren't usually like this though, they're probably the genius' that fit the stereotype the most. I happen to find this outrageously sexy.
The Cape Coloured Dude Who Painted Our Digs In 2nd Year. I spent hours alone in the house with this guy, who drank Autumn Harvest Crackling like it was his business, and occasionally, I imagine, show methylated spirits whose boss. He disappeared one day, because he “got sent back to Valkenberg Mental Hospital.” Sent back? He'd escape again, arrive on our doorstep, scream obscenities at us (words like pous and volepte came up a lot), and then get bundled into a cop car. Once he ambled in and on questioning, claimed to be doing a dump in our back garden.
Similarly, The Lady Man Who Lived On The Porch. This is why I miss Cape Town, for no other reason actually, except for the Cape Coloureds. I just love 'em.
Never truer was a character as this woman. Or was she even a woman?
The moustache above her upper lip suggested otherwise. She dragged a bin around with her and willy-nilly had naps on people's porches. She took a particular liking to Ex S' porch and this became her regular screaming-obscenities-at-passersby ground, until one day, through the threatening medium of a golf club, she was forced to go.
Her revenge? She defacated all over the porch. That'll show them. It was unbelievably revolting. But one can't deny she's a character.
Satan. He's an evil sonofbitch, he lives in a flamy inferno, he takes pleasure in the screams of the common people, and he believes in the mass fornication of the human species. Not a nice dude, or so I hear, but has made the history books, if not for just being one helluva character.
Most Of My Friends. They're all characters, and large one's at that, in their own way. A nice social experiment would be to lock two friends at a time in a padded cell together and see what happens. Like Big T and The Dove for instance. Both huge but very different characters in their own right. Big T would talk the hind leg off a donkey, tell Dove about the thread count in his latest Armani, and give her a business card. Dove will tell him to shut the fuck up and get real. Then they'll talk about deeper issues, like the meaning of life.