Moley Moley Moley

America, or at least Southern Indiana, contains many cross-eyed folks, many folks with a completely vacant expression, the kind you get when breeding occurs within towns too small to be recorded on a map; towns that no-one outside of the town seems to know exists.
Some of these folks have made their way to UE Campus...one of these has a large hairy mole on his face and is known in certain circles (namely my circle) as Moley.
Moley is special. Moley is not skilled in the art of conversation. Moley asks strange questions and tells strange little factoids. Moley said he was messed up because the TV shows were on at different time, Moley did not know how to reply to an email. Moley does not understand that subtle gestures such as grunting, turning one's head away, walking away, not making eye contact means one does not wish to speak with him. Moley thinks that if you smile at him once you must love him in some way and this means he is permitted to stare at you and drool through his bucked teeth and follow you around maintaining a distance of only around a metre away. Moley is special.
One time Moley surprised me, I looked up and shouted "FUCK! MOLEY!" as I was so startled by his cross-eyed, bucked toothed, hairy moled gawking. This may have been responsible for some Moley tears but at least he didn't speak to me again.
Some people may think me mean for such behaviour but I really do not care. I am minus one creepy stalker and that makes every day a more positive experience.
Moley Moley Moley.