When Retards Cry

I was in Park Street Station on Tuesday waiting for the next Red Line train to arrive. It is very common for performers of some sort to be singing, playing music or offering up some other type of performance hoping that those waiting on the same platform will deliver them a small fee for their work.

I had the unique …experience… of listening to a retarded man (or retahdid as we say in Boston) play a flute-like instrument pausing occasionally to speak loudly some slightly incorrect lyrics from Prince‘s When Doves Cry. In fact, I’m pretty sure he only knew about 4 lines and didn’t bother faking the rest. His rendition went something similar to the following:

Maybe you’re more like yo’ daddy…
*mumble mumble*
Maybe you’re more like yo’ mommy…
*mumble mumble*
Dis is what it sound like
when dub craaah…

I had my back to him because I was afraid my laughter would burst in front of him, but everytime he finished that verse I could only picture Cartman’s face while belting out a song. (>_< ) Each time he stopped playing his flute, he would repeat those same lines. The flute sound could be compared to an old man that is missing a few teeth and ends up whistling everytime he pronounces an ‘s’ sound or perhaps a screeching monkey. No, the old man whistling is more accurate. So, imagine that sound elongated with slight interuptions of the guy breathing without taking his mouth off the flute. Somehow the erratic sound was repeated and duplicated perfectly each and everytime he finished singing. This is what is sounds like when my ears cry.

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