Crazy Henry versus Antifa.

 

"The only thing evil men need to do to triumph is to leave good men alone" intoned Crazy Henry, as we watched CNN while seeding Grape Nuts. 

I was living with Crazy Henry, after being evicted from my own apartment. We had known each other all our lives, since he grew up next door to me. 

"I suppose so" I sighed, surprising myself by sounding like Zasu Pitts.

Sounding like Lionel Barrymore, Crazy Henry said: "These confounded groups, like Antifa, are at the root of our national discontent and alarm." Then he stood up and stuck his right hand into his shirt. Sternly looking at nothing in particular, he continued: "They must meet their Waterloo immediately!"

Then he sat down on my bowl of shelled Grape Nuts, spilling them all over the carpet.

"You are such a dunderhead" I told him, going for the vacuum. I often talked to him like that, especially now that I was living with him and not paying any rent.

As luck would have it, the very next day there was a big Antifa rally downtown. Crazy Henry had to go, carrying a placard that read: "Give America Back to the Passenger Pigeons!"

"Now you're just being silly" I told him as he left. I refused to go, wanting to finish shelling the Grape Nuts.

He waggled his right fist at me, in some kind of obscure signal of unity, as he went out the door.

I expected he'd either get himself arrested or beat up. Maybe even shot.

What I didn't expect is that he'd come home with the leader of the Antifa rally -- one Edward R. Mundy: A tall drink of water with dirty brown hair and a yellow squint in his left eye. He smelled of ozone.

I shook Mundy's hand, at Crazy Henry's insistence, but refused to give him a smile. I was worried I was going to lose my bedroom to him -- he looked like the kind of fanatic who had nowhere to lay his head at night.

When Crazy Henry invited him to sit on the sofa and have some dinner with us, the guy pulled out a machete and attacked the sofa -- stabbing it repeatedly and then pulling out the stuffing like it was intestines. He never spoke a word while doing it.

"I invited him home so we could initiate a dialogue about understanding and tolerance" Crazy Henry told me, as Mundy turned his attention to the fish bowl -- pouring the water out the window and swallowing the gold fish in one gulp.

"Evidently a college man" I observed nervously.

Mundy then ran into the bathroom and locked himself in. After an hour of ominous silence both Crazy Henry and I began banging on the door and shouting if he was all right.

In reply he kept flushing the toilet and laughing maniacally. 

So Crazy Henry had to call the cops to come break down the bathroom door and haul Edward R. Mundy away. He managed to pull the doorbell out of its socket on the way out.

After we had cleaned up the mess and eaten dinner I told Crazy Henry that there was no real hierarchy in Antifa, and no real leaders as such. So where did he find Edward R. Mundy?

"Oh, he was filling parking meter slots with superglue, so I figured he must be a ringleader" said Crazy Henry. 

That night the Grape Nuts molted.