This sort of unabashed character, for good measure, rather perplexing.

Dear HeySpace,

Here to say about this sort of unabashed character I see out and about. At large, in short, slipping between the lines at length, and never seen waiting in them around the plaza, at least. This sort of unabashed character seems to have somewhere to be all the time, like they're in some sort of a big rush, to be honest, but the other day I saw them trapsing across the grass, regardless of the rather plentiful walkways adjacent, and I asked them, in all egregious curiosity, if they had a hot date or something. This sort of unabashed character stopped on a dime, you know, and turned to me with locked eyes, and a big toothy smile, and fired out an eight gauge "Nope!" before careening off in a bee-line across the whole damn road and everything with their monster stomper boots leaving skidmarks just about liable to fly off and cause a collateral concussion to some oblivious sedan or SUV. This sort of unabashed roadrunner character hit-and-ran off on me with as much unabashed perplexity as I had for them, to be honest, and I wonder, you know, just where is it they scram off to all the time. One can only wonder, of this unabashed sort of character, what exactly they must do behind closed doors. Indeed, another instance of their perplexity arises in my memory. I had been making my way, most placid though punctual as ever, from one obliged place of rendezvous to the next, and happened into the restroom to relieve myself. Indeed, I knew this unabashed sort of character instantly by their characteristic reinforced concrete boots sticking out slipshod from under one of the stalls. What followed next I could only conceive must have been some manner of unexplained delirious episode onset by my habitual over-consumption of caffeinated beverages: the reinforced concrete boots began to rise off the tile floor and jam most raucously against the bottom of the stall door over and over, the sort of unabashed character letting out a cacophony of hoots and hollers, as some kind of sputtering spatter and a fuming sublimate rose in salvos from over the stall's walls, discoloring them and fizzling like some kind of misbegotten make-your-own-volcano show. Strangely enough, in all my stupor and disbelief at what inane shenanigans had unfolded before my eyes, the unabashed sort of character proceeded to open the stall door most deftly, looking as if they had just been to a professional stylist, comporting themselves with such refined, respectful demeanor, and gave me a charming 'good day' of a nod before washing their hands humming to the tune of "Have You Met the Muffin Man". As they exited I awaited the door to close, then went to peek out at this unabashed sort of character on their way, and found no trace of them at all. Indeed, they must have bee-lined straight around some corner or other somewhere in that long, straight corridor. What's to say, to be honest, of good measure about such an unabashed sort of character, I suppose, than rather perplexing?

Best Regards,