Henry P. Jones

There's a favorite Library patron of mine, Henry P. Jones, he always calls me Angel. He came in today (wearing his teeth) and was looking at my face, saying I must be having a good time because of my zits. He asked if he could pop one, and I shoved my plastic fork in his face, threatening to stab him. "When a girl gets zits, it's because she's having sex." He explained.

Henry is quite a character, he worked in a fiberglass plant years ago in the industrial area of KCK, and there was an explosion, 1 man died and a few others were injured. Henry has 3 fingers on one hand and a fat bottom lip with a huge scar to prove it. He always has stories to tell me, like how the government poisoned his people (blacks) during the Vietnam war so they could not have children, his experience with a man he thought was a beautiful woman, the day his dog got ran over (tears always come to his eyes when he mentions it), and other stories he tells so fast and laughs through so I can barely make out the words. He's always bringing me something, old hard Ju Ju Bees, a wind-up musical Noah's Ark, an old decorative toxic Olympic plate, etc...

He drives a scooter he bought at Osco's (a drugstore), he pimped it out so it can top speeds of 30+ mph. He told me once he was attacked one night by a crackhead at 10th and Minnesota, so he hopped on his scooter and took off as fast as he could only to be pulled over 3 blocks away by a police officer for speeding (the speed limit is 20mph). He told the cop he was running from a crackhead, he got away with a warning, and a laugh.

Oh, Henry.