Fred of Hampden

I met a guy named Fred. He’s an old gentleman. Multimillionaire who spends most of his days in his bookstore out in Hampden. He has sex everyday, banishes idiots from his store with a dismissing hand (he will literally tell someone to get out), and has artwork older than the United States of America littered across his desk. He is by far one of the more interesting people I’ve met in my life, and I’ve met a few characters.

I liked talking with Fred. No subject was too taboo. He made me feel that I was entitled to an opinion and that he wanted to hear it as long as I could defend my thoughts. I think he was more interested in my defense, the manner in which I secured my position against his onslaught of questions. I’m pretty sure this was his way of getting into my head to see what made me tick. He was delightfully cunning.

Our conversation turned to the matter of cheating in relationships:

Me: I think it’s wrong. I don’t think you should be in a relationship if you’re going to be philandering with other women. Just be single and let it be known you don’t want anything serious.

Fred: Just because you stop on the side of the road for a Tasty Cake doesn’t mean you’re not excited for dinner.

Me: My mind has been blown.

Fred: No, your mind has been opened.

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