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Hi there! I'm Romartus, and I would love to help you further understand the concept of Weird. Sit down, take your shoes off, maybe your pants, and we shall begin immediately.
Weird is a state of mind. It is anything that can present itself as out of the ordinary. Simply defined, it is 'not normal', or odd. You may think it would take a really weird person to explain weirdness, but you would be wrong, and what a weird conclusion to come to! I, for instance, am totally unweird. Ordinary, conventional, even wholesome. Yep. But despite my orthodox averageness, I've spent years studying the subject, so please permit me to take you on a journey into the bizarre, the deviant and - my favorite - the uncouth. Hold onto your hat, because what you're about to see may shock you. It may even terrify you. But don't worry... I'll be right here. Looking over your shoulder.
Since weird is 'not normal,' we need to establish what is normal, what is ordinary. And what better example is there than, ta da, yours truly! I'm very normal. Five fingers on each hand, six toes per foot, and a spring in my step. I live in this fine old Victorian house along with chairs and wallpaper and accordions. No need to look around; there's no hidden torture chamber, not since the last fire.
My life is pretty mundane too, to be honest. I eat, sleep, read, and play the accordion. Sometimes I go to the cinema, or walk in the park. And don't believe what you may have heard, I'd never do anything strange like draw faces on oranges, apples, and grapes to re-enact a fruit version of Casablanca in my living room, because that's not normal. Did I tell you about the time a Granny Smith said "Here's looking at you, fig"? Well, that never happened.
So there you have it. And now that you know what normal people are like, let's have a look at some people that are relentlessly un-normal.
There are some lucky people who make being weird into a career. And I don't just mean strangelings like Nicolas Cage; I'm talking about genuine freaks of nature. The kind of people you can find adorning the pages of the beer company's Book of World Records or the Ripley's Believe it or Not annual edition (that is, if you can tear yourself away from the page about the woman with the world's largest breasts - something I could never do whenever I read our school library's copy. As soon as they let me back in there, I'll read the rest, I swear.) People like Bao Xishun, the tallest man in the world, or Hogan Jefferson, the man with the most amount of heads (with a grand total of 2 and a half!), and various other abominations with superlatives in their names. These freaks are little more than callous affronts to God! I mean, let me introduce you to a few of these lovely creatures - err - well, people.
First there's Bao Xishun, the aforementioned tallest man. He isn't just famous for being huge and gangly, however. This 8 foot wonder (a very strange coincidence; he's eight foot tall and has eight feet, although six of them have grown inside his skin and can only be seen on X-Rays, one of which I have on the wall here) is also known throughout the world for his kind, modest and gentle nature. Look at his big friendly face. Isn't it calming to see those vast, soft eyes staring at you? Don't they kinda make you think everything's gonna be alright? I know it always cheers me up to see those horrid teeth of his. Ever notice how they resemble a yellowing Stonehenge? And just look at that enormous nose. The size of a basketball. And his ears, flapping in the wind... God, he's a fucking monster! Get him away from me! I don't want to look at him anymore.
Then there's He Pingping, the smallest man in the world, and a good friend to Bao Xishun. Unlike Bao, however, Pingping is a more modern gentleman. He is regularly seen boozing it up and attending strip clubs, where the women - entranced by his small, babyish appearance - lavish their attention upon him, in more ways than one or so I've heard. Pingping is also known to donate large amounts of money to charity, so He may be small but clearly He's got a big heart, and made of gold, at that. I actually met Pingping once, and was so impressed that I got him to sign a picture, and the pen was almost as big as he was, or so I've heard from the women at the strip club. I put his signed picture up on my wall there, next to Bao's X-Ray. Then I angrily tore it down when He came to me in a dream and told me I had no honour. Stupid little midget! I hope you die! God I'm so glad I'm not a freak.
Even without the physical oddities that abound, one weird thing that we deal with every day is "mental confusion." People who have such disorders are, for better or worse, very, very weird. And scary. Scary unless you're into that sort of thing, or if they're hot unpredictable women, that is.
Take schizos, for example, or to use the politically correct term, "schizophrenics." These people have serious trouble distinguishing reality from fantasy, and regularly see, hear, and even smell things that don't exist and remember things that didn't happen. Schizophrenics are some of the weirdest people around. They're not ordinary like me, you, or He. My best friend Ned has it, and believe you me, it really gets in the way of his job as a time-traveling dragon breeder. Ned has tons of weird, surrealistic beliefs. He believes that the sky is an illusion and that on the other side there's another, slightly different Earth. He's convinced himself that legs have no use and are a genetic disease, and oftentimes tears or burns them off small animals and insects. He also reckons newborn babies have intelligence beyond that of adults, but they lose it as they grow up. What a kook! Sometimes I can scarcely believe Ned is real, especially when my family insist that he isn't. "Then who is that in the mirror!" I tell them, and they have no answer. Heh.
Another form of mental confusion is dementia. This is defined as "a loss of cognitive ability in a person previously unaffected." Symptoms include forgetting things, agitation, delusion, forgetting things, slowness, delusion, and slowness. It can often be brought on by ageing or alcohol abuse, and is a bitch to control when the main symptom is forgetting, ah, things. Especially for those poor souls who are both demented and schizo, they sometimes forget things that aren't even there!
Then there's Tourette's Syndrome, where people can't cock stop cock themselves cock from cock adding cock random goosefucker words pussytime! that cock aren't cock relevant cock to cock the cock conversation. Tits covered in shit!
Some people have a whole plethora of these mental illnesses. Not me though, thank the little God who lives in the garden. Sometimes I feel so normal that I freak out and start smashing things uncontrollably. While naked. No I don't, you liar, I mean - Shut up! I didn't say that! Snigger! Okay, I think it might be time to move on.
From the varied realms of physical and mental weird with which we are most familiar arises another form: applied weirdness, or kinkiness. Just like applied math, kinkiness is best illustrated with mathematical sums, like so:
Kinkiness is generally the realm of couples who've been together a really long time (like a month or so) and are so bored of each other and jaded by the constant sex that they can only achieve arousal by introducing a large vibrating egg into the equation. Or an enormous halogen phallus. Or, if he's lucky, one of her hot single friends. If that's what too much sex does to you, I'm glad I haven't had any in... however long it's been. I myself kinda lost count after twenty years.
The problem with kinkiness is that it isn't all fun and games. There are some real nasty pieces-of-work out there who are unlikely to be titillated by a bit of dewy-eyed toe-sucking. Paedophilia, for instance, is basically another form of kinkiness, as is incest (having sex with family members, like my brother and my mom that one time), rape (stealing sex from someone), necrophilia (cracking open a cold one), and foreplay (ugh, just, ugh). I don't even want to mention sexually-active old people for fear of warping your fragile little mind. And that's not even the worst of it. I once had a friend (well, friend of a friend) who could only get off on having sex with other men. I know! How disgusting! How did that even work? Makes me sick just thinking about it. If only I could stop thinking about it. Why can't I stop thinking about it, mummy?
I hope you enjoyed your trip
Well, there you have it. And now do me the honor of sitting down here for awhile. Yes, get comfortable. I have something to show you, it's just in back. This is the climax of my whole exposé, I hope you're excited! Here, look at this while I go get it.
What? I can hardly hear you back here. No, that's not a picture of a dead elephant, its a close-up of the thing I found in the woods once, I think her name was Judy or Therese or something. Hold on, here I come.
Please, don't get up. It can't hurt you. I've pulled out its teeth, see? And I've removed its legs so it can't run very fast, although I do let it loose in the yard sometimes just to watch it try to run away on those stumpy things. You want to touch it? No? I thought that's what you meant when you moved your hands in front of your face.
So, okay, it was good to see you. I hope you didn't find me too boring and normal; I try my best to be interesting. Come back again soon, and bring a friend. Me and Eddie here will be waiting for you - no need to try to say goodbye, Eddie, I know it's hard without your teeth and tongue. And look, Eddie is crying tears of sadness at seeing you go. Why are you in such a hurry? Is it because of how normal I am? Ah well, I've got to get back to my accordion, anyway. It waits for no man, as mums used to say. Don't worry, I'll close the door, bye now.
/The sound of running is heard on the stairs and sidewalk, just before the notes of an accordion begin to sound in the evening air.