Of Hannibal Lecter and Fathers Unknown

I'm not particularly well known in my neighbourhood...ok let's say that I'm not known at all. I do not chat in shops or on the bus stop or in the street; actually I always carry a face of pure terror mixed with impatience mixed with adrenaline rushed hurry whenever anyone I know happens to want to chat to me anywhere within 100 metres from where I live. Once I risked throwing up in the bus as a result of car sickness because I kept on pretending to read to avoid having to talk to one of my neighbours who decided to sit next to me after ignoring my discrete, but unequivocal look of abject horror.

Anyway ... you get the point. I hardly know anyone in my street, and hardly anyone knows me. I hope this state of affairs continues until I move, which is hopefully soon. However, this morning while walking towards the bus at the usual ungodly hour, I bumped into this strange, neanderthal looking individual who happens to inhabit a house a few doors down from me and, without wanting to, peeked curiously inside his house to catch a glimpse of it for a second while giving me an excuse to avoid having to saying hello.

And there it was ... Criminal Minds merged into Dexter merged into CSI-Whatever merged into X Files merged into BLOODY SILENCE OF THE LAMBS. The walls of his house were covered with pictures of dead people (the ones they give out at funerals). Scary Shit ta' veru. The whole Tombesque Decor was completed with candles and statues of our Mary of Sorrows and the Crucified Christ to give the whole place a warm cosy feel with inner joy and cheerful tidings. Riiiight. Since this guy spends his time sitting on his doorstep with no particular source of employment, I can safely assume that my tax and future hope for a pension have been invested in turning a normal house into the set of a low budget horror film of the kind where people get eaten, killed, eviscerated or sold for spare parts.

I'm looking forward to my moving in the coming months. Also, an alternative route to the bus stop is being sought as we speak.

Speaking of people robbing me out of my pension, while at the baker I overheard a woman announcing that her daughter had just had a baby. After everyone, except me (refer to description above), congratulated her, she had to explain that the baby had been registered with "Father Unknown". In the silence that followed I could just hear the collective "X'GHARUKAZA!!!" that went through the minds of the other women.

As for me, my first thought was that unless this girl took the concept of "close your eyes and think of Malta" to the next level, it's a case of Father Unknown my arse. As my salary sheds euros in favour of an abused welfare system, I can't help wondering why certain men seem to think that recognising their children is actually an option. If you're man enough to pull your pants down, you should be man enough to pull your socks up and take responsibility.

In the meantime, I might decide to take up online grocery shopping once again.

Off to watch Big Bang Theory ... I think Sheldon Cooper is on his way to become my new idol!