A public library tends to draw a wide range of people from across the spectrum of society, from an elderly gentleman who jokingly implied that our kids coloring page table was for consoling disappointed Democrats a year after the Presidential election to people asking whether their request for a copy of Hillary Clinton's book had been fulfilled yet. But the subject of today's post is best described in the form of a song:
Get the dreadlock,
Get the sandal,
Stinky hippy today.
Stinky hippy, stinky hippy,
—Five Iron Frenzy
A pair of interesting characters, accompanied by a small child perhaps 2 years of age, dropped in to pay off some old fines, return some lost items, and inquire about a few books. These two were attired in a... unique assortment of garments that exhibited quite an array of colors. They also exuded an equally unique aroma that was neither welcome nor wholesome. This pungent, malodorous assault upon the sinuses was a combination of unwashed bodies, farmyard scents and what I shall politely call herbal essences.
Now, it should be obvious to my regular readers—yes, all three people and a dozen bots—that I really could not care less what other people choose to smoke. I do, however, ask that they not share the stale leftovers with me. I also would like to assume people know better than to go out on public in such an unhygenic state that it makes my sinuses burn.
A little courtesy, please! Don't be a Nurgling!