I had an encounter with one of the mullet people. Yes, I believe that they are their own race of people. They are rather reminiscent of those people that lived in the basement of those psycho foster parents in the movie People Under the Stairs.
I was happily minding my own business in the Sears Auto Parts store, purchasing some new all weather floor mats for Riggins (so I have an irrational obsession with my new car- no judging) when I was approached. By a round, big-foreheaded man with a cascading blond-streaked mullet.
"Do you believe in prostitution?"
I turned around, the tan all-weather floor mats clutched in both hands defensively, and just blinked at him. Like prostitution as a belief system? What?
"Um, excuse me?"
He squinted at me, behind his bright yellow wrap around glasses. "Yeah, as in do you believe in legalizing prostitution?"
As his gravel voice raked over my skin, I realized that the only thing between me and the mullet were my all-weather floor mats. I thrust them forward and practically shouted,"I have to pay for these."
And I ran. Oh how I ran. Without looking back.
Do the mullet people now exist on the same plane as the elderly? They can just say whatever the hell they want without fear of repercussions or societal judgment. Maybe like the elderly, they should have their own homes. That way I wouldn't have to deal with them unless I had to, like, fulfill community service hour requirements for my probation.