Gotta catch 'em all, gotta catch 'em all!  Gotta catch 'em all- Septy's Rouges!  Can you name all 52 of my Rogues?  I wish I could make a game about capturing all of them, or better yet convince people to take them back home and keep them there.
 

More of the Rogue's Gallery!

Straw-Boy:  This psycho boy's modus operandi is to try to get cigarettes or a light from a passing girl, start talking to her, and then stalk her.  Don't feel too bad for him it you think that he gets lonely, then voices in his head keep him company when he's not busy stalking anyone.  He also likes to come in my store and fondle the women's magazines.  He's called straw boy because he enjoys a certain type of straw, and he proceeds to molest those straws when he gets them.

Two Pants: Little is known about this nut job.  His distinguishing characteristic is that he wears two pairs of pants.  Hot or cold, rain or shine, there he is in both of his pants.  He likes to follow people and yell at inanimate objects.  I don't think he got enough love as a child.  Or he just needs a good old fashioned beat down.

Snotty:  The original font o' mucus. Brown tobacco stains on his hands, a puddle of phlegm where he stands.

Snotty 2/ CatMan: The second of the overactive mucus membrane trio.  Wipes his boogers with a napkin, rubs it on his bald head, then licks the napkin.  He hangs around for hours leaking on every clean surface that he can find.

Snotty 3/ Tic Tac: Just to see him walking across the street, you'd might think him normal, but when you get close, the horror becomes apparent.  His always seems to have very interesting and intellectually stimulating conversations- with himself.  He also has a post nasal drip that makes Niagara Falls look like a leaky faucet.  And let's not forget why he has the name Tic Tac.  Because he pops his medication like breath mints.  Maybe, just maybe, they need to up the dosage a smidg.

The Flash(er):  When the weather gets warm, all the women go outside, and he gets out too... of his pants.  He walks around in tight shorts that aren't quite long enough.  He holds a newspaper in front of himself, and when a girl gets near- FLASH!  He tends to follow them into my store, until a certain disgruntled and cranky clerk scares him away.

The Watcher:  A dirty old perv who has a penchant  for staring at young men.  Follows them around, and tries to get these kids to talk to him.  In one case, he tried to look at some guy's I.D. when he was being carded for cigarettes.  He wanders around and generally looks like an escapee from some booby hatch.

Hand Job:  If you need to get in contact with the aliens, look no further than this guy.  He wears an alien communicator on his hand (no joke!) made of bits of wire and other metal objects that he scavenges like a sparrow building a nest.  He has his cigarette holder wired in there too; it's fashionable and functional.  Some of of the most bizarre behavior that I've seen from him includes jumping over the welcome mat in my store, not just once, but every time. One time he was in, he had to wait 3 or 4 minutes by the front door to get out because people kept coming and going, not giving him the chance to jump out.  He eventually panicked, and jumped into the door with a thud, and ran out.  (See, it's that sparrow thing again...)

Mary Thorazine:  Voted Miss Psychotic Oakland in 1996.  This apostle is deluded into thinking that I look like Jesus (I told her that she was thinking in the wrong direction.  Think down.) and that she wanted to have holy children with me. And don't let me forget that she put a hex on my store because one of my co-workers did something that she didn't like.  She eventually rescinded the curse when she put in an application to work there.  The curse on my store is much stronger than any thing that she could conjure.  It's called minimum wage.

Hot Pants:  Many a morning have we seen Hot Pants trolling down from the local park after a busy night turning tricks.  This is someone who has to be seen to be believed.  Shorty shorts, half shirt with his chunky monkey belly sticking out, dirt on his legs and back, and that toothless grin from ear to ear that would make any mama proud.  Oh, yeah, did I forget to mention that he likes to do (horrible) drag too?  Ru Paul, your job is in danger.  The proof that there are gay men out there who feel the need to punish themselves for being gay.  And that punishment is to deal with Hot Pants.

The Petroleum Jelly Bandit:  Once a week, he comes.  Comes to get his supply of petroleum jelly and Deluxe Ultra Light Menthol cigarettes.  And just as quickly as he arrives, he whisks off into the night to wank himself silly until the next week.

Halitor- Master of Bad Breath (AKA Goth Boy):  Imagine the living avatar of all things Goth.  Then imagine the dirtiest, stinkiest person that you've met.  Combine those two, and you get Halitor- Master of Bad Breath!  This poser-boy would harass anyone who wore even the least amount of black.  ("Are you Goth?")  He smelled like rancid mayonnaise and rotten italian dressing, the combination that he dribbled on himself when he ate.  There were show drifts of dandruff on his shoulders from not washing his dyed black hair.  The real Goths really, really disliked him.

Lucrita, Queen of the Undead:  She skulks the streets at night, searching for victims.  Her undead appetite knows no bounds, since she yacks most of what she eats into the nearest toilet.  She frightens the patrons of the local coffee house as she wanders around in her black shawl.

Jo:  "No one knows that I'm a lesbian."  No, they don't.  Most people who see her say, "She's a man, baby!"  It's one thing to be in denial of your own sexuality, but it's completely different to be in denial of everyone else being in denial of your sexuality.  I've in my life never seen such a homophobic lesbian in my life.  Although she is not technically a Rogue, I like to post her as a life lesson.

Disco Captain Kangaroo:  It's Captain Kangaroo, in disco clothes.  But he doesn't act like that lovable kiddie icon, he's a real jerk.  He throws money at people, he steals coffee if you don't watch him, he makes messes, and he's an ignorant shit.  He needs a turn receiving special love from the "Magical Musical Beatdown Stick".

The Urinal:  He's part of the reason that I now lobby for pubic bathing laws.  He smells like an unflushed urinal, without one of those fragrant cakes in it.  He walks into the store, and people run.  And he claims to have a girlfriend too.  I think that someone has a "plastic enhanced" relationship.

All Things for Less Than a Dollar:  Only once have I seen him spend more than 99 cents.  And it's always in change.  This pervy little weirdo works at a restaurant up the street making pizza dough, and I don't want to know the recipe.  Betty Crocker he isn't.

That Cane Guy:  It's time for America's favorite game show: Food Stamp Frenzy!  He wanders around all day from store to store to use his food stamp card to buy stuff.  One day, we ran out of the special paper that this particular machine uses, he had the nerve to suggest that a co-worker and I should walk to another store to get paper for him so he could buy overpriced crap there.  It's not like he walks all day and could buy stuff elsewhere, like a supermarket; you know, where the crap isn't as overpriced.  But then again, it's not his money.

The Pie-Eyed Piper:  His agenda for most any given evening: get liquored up, stumble around Oakland, stagger into my store, knock things over, and play Food Stamp Frenzy!  It's nice to know that my tax dollars are being so well spent.  Let's reward unabashed alcoholics by giving them money, yet have no personal accountability to try to get better.  Thanks Mr. Government Bureaucrat!

The Fairy-Go-Round: This guy's a lot like an amusement park.  (At least like ones in warmer regions.)  He's open 7 days a week; if you wait in line long enough, everyone gets to ride; and groups of ten or more are always welcome.  I consider him a personal nemesis.  In some ways we are similar, but in the ways that count he's my antithesis.  He goes a long way to prove one of my basic premises: just because you're homosexual, it doesn't mean that you have to have sex with every homo you find.

Comb-over: He's koo-ku for Thorazine Puffs!  Why, that full head of hair couldn't possible be a comb over, could it?  He comes in the store and plays everyone's favorite game: Food Stamp Frenzy!  He normally buys a juice with his Access card.  He is so paranoid that he has taped over his name on the front of the card.  (But he didn't tape over his signature, so he plan is foiled!  Muw, ha, ha, ha, ha!)  He also leans over and covers up the keypad when he enters his pin number, because we want to steal all of the nickels he has.

The Amazing Androdgo:  It's time for androgyny.  Truth be known, I could not tell you if this is a guy or a chick.  S/he has  a (somewhat) feminine look, but a (somewhat) masculine (abletly, very gay) voice.  S/he comes into my store and buys stuff, then demands a double bag because s/he has a long way to walk.  (Yes, that leaden bread is going to burst right through that plastic bag.)  Though I'm sure with a little effort I could deduce the gender of this "Pat", but I don't think I want to know.

Rambo:  Hey parents, rest assured that this guy is guarding your kids.  This nut job worked for the company that guarded the dormitories at the local university.  Since there are no background checks, the pay is low, and there are no psychological profiles, anyone can be employed be them; including a maniacal, gun obsessed, stalker-esque winner-at-the-game-of-life like Rambo.  He would come into my store with his chick magnet glasses and "I'm so sexy" buzz cut (think "Dilbert" in a militia) to look at the gun magazines and feel up any pictures of Pamela Anderson that he my have found in the tabloids.  He would bother the local police by talking about guns and other weapons endlessly.  As I said to one of the cops once, "One day, he's going to do something and we will be able to say that we knew him.  I don't know if he'll be another Tim McVay, Unibomber, or Ted Bundy, but that toon is going to do something."  I haven't seen hide nor hair of him for months, not that this is a bad thing.

Flower Boy:  The people who sell flowers on the streets of Oakland are real winners at the game of Life.  This special little guy copped an attitude with me a while back.  It seems that some of the people who "work" (yeah right, how about stand around a collect dust) at my store talked about me behind my back, and made mention of my sexuality to him.  Since he is a 'Burgher, by law that you are required to be a racist, anti-Semite, misogynist, and of course my favorite, a homophobe.  He felt the need to make snide comments to me as I passed by.  I ignored him, but my best friend, roommate, and fag hag got pissed off one day and tore him a new asshole.  We unfortunately haven't seen him since.

Flower Man:  Although he isn't around any more, I feel that I must make mention of my first rogue, Flower Man.  My freshman year at Pitt was when I first saw him.  "Flowrths.  Two doollerths." he would call out to the passers by.  I remember it well, after class I would walk by, and he would have the smell of cheap booze and urine about him.  But eventually they took him away, and Oakland was just a little less colorful for the loss.  Yeah, and a little less stinky.

The Guardian Stalker:  Once more, let me say that some security companies will hire anyone.  He was the first person that I put on a microwave restriction.  He was stalking one of my co-workers, and a few other people that I heard about.  He once asked me "You don't like me, do you?"  I told him, "Not really."  He was rarely on his post, and eventually got fired.  I laughed when I heard the bad news.

The Guardian Shoplifter:  I guess that the security company just doesn't pay enough.  So to augment his meager income, he comes down to my store and pockets all of the free things that he can carry.  I haven't actually seen him shoplift anything, but I'm quite sure that he has.  Because of this, he is on restriction.  No microwave privileges, no napkins, no straws, he can only get stuff that he can buy.  Some of my co-workers have yelled at him, so now he's afraid to come into the store when certain people are there.  I'm going to have to make him just as afraid of me.  Everyone needs goals.

Cup O' Charcoal:  On the cavalcade of security guards, here's the brightest of the bunch.  See the True Tales of Stupidity in December of 1998 to see the adventure where she got her name.  It is amazing how terrifyingly unintelligent some people can be.

Frumpy- the Vampire Slayer:  What happens when the 200 year old soul of a vampire slayer inhabits a bulbous suspected pedophile?  Fun happens!  When he's not molesting kittens, he's collecting Teletubbie toy because he loves them; for all the wrong reasons.  He once told someone that I know that he was going to be in a vampire slaying movie with Val Kilmer, Michael Keaton, and Jack Nichelson.  The movie is to be filmed in Budapest, and will be directed by George Ramero (Night of the Living Dead).  He is also worth about $13 million, and started college when he was 15, and is a doctor!  He also has a pair of spontaneously regenerating kidneys.  He used to hang around my store and bother one of co-workers, but for some reason that absolutely no one can fathom, he called me a "homo" in front of one of my loyal minions.  When I was told, I chucked the slayer out of the store on his ass, and told him to never, ever, under any circumstances would he ever be allowed back.

Mommie Weirdest:  Septuplet mania hits lovely and scenic Oakland!  But unlike all of those other people who had their babies with fertility drugs, or even people who had real babies, this lady one upped them all by having plastic kids.  It stated out about year ago when we would see her wandering around the local grocery store with her "baby".  It was freaky, but not the nuttiest thing that I ever saw in my life.  About a month ago, we went to the store and saw her with new babies, a stroller filled with seven plastic children, all of whom she thinks are real.  Can you say "Rubber Baby Buggy Bonkers"?

Blessed:  Yet another of those wacky guards hired by my favorite security company.  This nutty mama is a tough one to describe.  She got dubbed because of the hat that she wears that simply reads "Blessed".  She comes into my store and stares at me with that special mouth-breathing look that I'm sure that drives all of the guys at the church socials/militta meeting even crazier.
 
 

Agents of V.A.G.R.A.N.T. (the Violent, Anti-social, Grimy Regiment for Anarchy, Nihilism and Terror):

Shaky Jake:  The leader of the group.  He poses as a feeble old man, but don't underestimate is genius intellect.  It is believed that he is responsible for the fires and riots in California, fighting in Bosnia, and amazingly enough, the sinking of the Titanic!   Actually, he's just a a stinky old drunk who shakes all the time and urinates on everything he sees.  (But I figured that maybe I could get a movie deal if I mentioned the Titanic.)  And in the good news category, Shaky's back in town.

Rasta-Bum:  An outstanding (quite literally) citizen of Oakland for over 13 years.  He shakes his cup of change and frightens the people of this fair city.  He was arrested for slashing the face of a student, but thanks to our revolving door leagal system, he was back out on the street in months.

Biggie Bronx:  If he's big, and from the Bronx, he must be Biggie Bronx.  This loony bum likes to yell at people and tell them that: first, he is one of  the true children of god and will eventually destroy them all, and second, that they are all pawns of the "Man".  He's available for weddings, birthday parties, and Bar mitzvahs!

The Dirt-namic Duo:  They have been lovingly dubbed "Dances with Lice" and "Teeth of Chicklets" by the local students.  This couple is the Romeo and Juliet of the homeless set.  Actually, Curt Cobain and Courtney Love would be more appropriate.  No, how about Courtney Love and a syringe full of heroine.  They do everything together: shoplift, burglarize, pan handle, perform Satanic rituals, beat the crap out of Teeth of Chicklets.  Oh, wait, I guess that's something that Dances with Lice does by himself.  And Teeth of Chicklets apperently has a little bundle of joy, awww a new littl neo-nazi to call her own.

Cup O' Vagrant:  This stinky freak's M.O. is to buy soup in Styrofoam cups with his sticky nickels.  He packs the soup up with salt and pepper, half of which spills on the counter, and doesn't bother to clean up his packets.  After that, he puts the soup in the microwave and overflows the soup because he heats it too long.  Personally, I'd like to stuff him in the microwave, but that would make an even bigger mess.  Oh well.

Sombrero Mask:  (With my apologies to Sailor Moon.)  All of the resident's of Oakland know his famous call of "Does aaanyyy-boodyy have aaanyyy change!"  The sombrero clad elf wanders the streets of Pittsburgh, beckoning people to put chance in his hat.  But don't think that begging for change is all this seventy year old has on his mind.  He also has a little twenty something filly.  Unfortunately for her, she's not amusing enough to get a name.

Mama Crack:  (With my apologies to the Mamas and the Papas.)  This is Cup O' Vagrant's girl-toy.  They come in at night and get their soup together, it's so romantic.  We've seen them walk down the street together, arguing who smoked up all of the crack.

Hot Dog Vagrant:  This stinky person likes to come in several times a night to pester and annoy all who work behind the counter.  He goes the I'm-so-polite-and-courtous-route to make himself a nuisance.  Yes, I'm dull witted enough to believe that he's being polite because he really likes me, and not because he want's free things.  Nah.  Hey, I have an idea.  Why doesn't he use that brown nosing talent to go into telemarketing?  Oh, wait.  That would be work.

Bloaty and His Magical Distended Liver:  If I only had a picture for this one.  This bloated alcoholic vagrant used to come into the store and play Food Stamp Frenzy, but then after a drunken episode in the store, he was banned for life.  One time early on, I had to tell him that I was engaged to one of my coworkers because he wouldn't leave her alone.  Now he's know as a bi-sexual terror, annoying both females AND males.  Equality for all.

The Trash Pickin' Wonder:  Rummaging through the garbage, he strikes at night.  But that's not his full time job.  He works at a restaurant too.  In fact, the September of 1998 True Tale of Stupidity is about him.  On many occasions when I walked down the streets of lovely and scenic Oakland he has tried to talk to me as if I was his buddy, but after what transpired the last time that I saw him, there's little chance of him being friendly.  Whoops.

The Guardian Lunatic:  This guy wanders around Oakland in a guard outfit with a badge, and I truly wonder what company would hire someone who hangs out with the homeless.  He has a mechanical trash picker, so I guess that puts him a step above the other maniacs he hangs around.

Bag Man: Yet again, someone else who confuses a store magazine rack for a library.  "I'm just waiting until 5:00 AM for my bus."  Then why did you wait until 3:00 AM after the busses stop to try to catch one?  I had frightened him away of my store for awhile and thought that I finally was rid of him.  But much to my chagrin, he has returned.  He is what we like to call clinically loopy.

Gay for Pay J (A.K.A. Dirtball): I've been saving this one for months.  How can words even describe this guy?  He's been pestering me for probably two years now.  He likes to prattle on about the scores of women that he has slept with, but his queer exploits have been almost mythological.  He used to live with the infamous Hot Pants, but Hot Pants got carted off to the loony bin again, so Gay for Pay J is out on the streets once more.  Legend has it that he filated a guy for a pair of boots that he has to this very day.  He hangs out at the local coffee shop, selling drugs and being ridiculed by all who pass by.

Jim Moron-son:  He's not dead folks!  He hangs out around the local coffee shop playing his guitar for change.  He butchers music from the Doors in a way that only a homeless alcoholic can.

Madame Jake:  Just like Supergirl has powers different from her namesake Superman, Madame Jake has different abilities from Shaky Jake.  She came into my store a while ago, demonstrating an array of dazzlingly annoying abilities.  Although she doesn't urinate on everything, she does try to play for pity, and tries to come off that she is crazier than she actually is.  (Why would you want people to think that you are certifiable?  OK, she is nutty, but I've seen nuttier.)  When I finally got annoyed enough to kick her out, she started acting offended, and yelled at me.  I eventually had to call the police.  The officers who responded are now on my Christmas gift list.

Hawk: Oh no, not the cool Hawk from Spencer for Hire, just a dirty street guy.  Why do these people think that I care?!?  He came in the night before I originally wrote this, and introduced himself and proceeded to tell me his life story.  His wife left him and he's homeless, and he panhandling.  That's nice.  Go away.

The Happy-Go-Puky:  Although I've only seen this guy once, he deserves to be preserved in infamy on my list of rogues.  He walked into my store, mouth covered in vomit, and asked if he could stand in the store to get warm.  My co-worker and I didn't say "no", in fear that he might throw up on us in retaliation.  After wobbling a few minutes, and coughing a few times to instill in us the fear of his vomitous wrath, he called us assholes then staggered out of the store.  And regards to 'Rico for naming this wonder.

Scarro the Magnificent:  Just your run-of-the-mill panhandler.  He hangs out with the Hot Dog Vagrant, and his name is derived from the scars that run up and down his arms.  I never really cared to mention him, but recently he tried to get one of my co-workers to give him bills for the nickels and dimes that he begs for on the street, because in his words, "Cabs don't take change."  My co-worker told him no, and to take the bus.  I wish I made enough money to take a taxi, but I work for a living.

Reverend Amish Krunknuts:  Sure he's not a reverend, he's not amish, but he sure is a krunknut.  He wears amish-looking sideburns, and normally dresses in black, giving him that oh-so fundamentalist look that drives all the parishioners wild.  He doesn't do much more than wander around Oakland all day and night carrying around large shopping bag, going from store to store annoying all who are unfortunate enough to be inside.

Crusty McMumbles:  This guy is so dirty that he is gray.  Yes, he is no longer a peach-fleshtone, he is gray like his dingy soul.  One time, he walked into my store, and mumbled to my one co-worker and asked for a hot dog and a bag of chips.  She rung him up, then mumbled that he wanted coffee instead of the hot dog.  Instead of letting this filthy thing near the coffee, she ran to the coffee isle and got his cup herself.  After getting the coffee, he asked where his hot dog was.  After a lengthy argument he left the store frustrated.

Brother of Straw-Boy:  Perhaps the mutant's parents mated more than once.  One night a large, freakish dirty man came into the store, reeking of trash.  I looked at the man and immediately dubbed him Brother of Straw-Boy.  He doesn't do much more than skulk menacingly and frighten passers by, but because of the resemblance to a current and upstanding member of my Rogue's Gallery, he is automatically inducted as a legacy.