Local man, Bart Tablefly, 28, is actually a pretty nice guy despite looking incredibly sketchy, sources say. And yet, he manages to turn this circumstance into some sort of terrifying superpower.
​I met with Bart this week, at a busy coffee shop during daytime hours because he frightens me, to hear his inspiring story. “One day, I was out with some friends and this guy was handing out flyers. He was pretty insistent with them but didn’t even look at me”. With his dead eyes meeting mine in a horrible in a horrible gaze, all lodged way back way back in their cavernous, nicotine-stained sockets, he continued: “I’ve always been kind of shy, and I can give off something of an anti-social vibe but that day I realized it was something more”. He was awkwardly looking off between muttered statements, opaque refractions of fluorescent lighting running off his greasy skin. I noticed I’d minimized my obvious revulsion to appreciate his bravery.
​He explained that no one ever tried to rob him, as he, without fail, was always the sketchier person in any dark alley and that his appearance has outright benefits. “Doesn’t matter how busy the subway is, no one sits beside me. Presidential suite every time. Hobos don’t ask me for change. I easily exit boring conversations. Hell, I haven’t been fired for underperforming at a handful of low-skill jobs because they’re scared I’ll shoot up the place. Crazy, right? I actually love people. I always try to be as nice as possible.” My skin crawled.
​I hesitated to ask, since I can imagine him viciously beating someone while crying inconsolably, but I had to know: how does his appearance affect his social life?
Apparently he has a small circle of close friends, a good relationship with his family, and a girlfriend with whom he is deeply enamored. Do his friends also look sketchy? Is his girlfriend hot? I imagined them all having visible addiction issues, and later checked his social media accounts; a totally legit, for-reals journalistic and definitely not sketchy thing to do because I am conventionally attractive. Shocking. My suspicions were false, so they must only keep his company out of a misguided sense of pity.
He highlighted other benefits, quicker service at restaurants and the general reluctance of others to talk to him about politics, which he chalked up to an “intimidation factor”. But he lamented: “I know I look like the kind of guy who makes up voices for cadavers to have mock debates with while going about my work at the crematorium”. Before he left, which felt like an eternity, he thanked me for telling his story. He noted he genuinely enjoyed our conversation and, if I wanted to continue it, he’d “appreciate the opportunity to continue talking with such a kind and interesting person”. Ugh. What a disgusting creep.

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