The HTB Chronic-­Ills

Forward and Forewarned 

Nobody has asked me where the concept of Harold the Bum originated, not yet at least. I'm certain they, being you (second person, plural), would like to know. Perhaps, you find his character lovable, hysterical, and you identify with him. Or you find him disturbing, objectionable, and you want him identified. In either case, you just want to know, is he real? Should you look for him on the street?... sure. Should you lock  your doors at night?... Sure, but not because of Harold. He's not interested in your silver, your credit cards, or your autographed Mickey Mantle card. None of those are injectable substances. Oh, you may find him performing ad hoc landscaping services in your backyard at 4:30 AM, but he poses no threat to you or your loved ones... it's your garden hose he's eyeing. It will still be there in the morning and odds are so will Harold. That's just the way he is, and you have to meet people where they are... even if it's pertaining to a criminal trespass charge.

So, to answer your question, the one nobody has asked, at least not yet. Does Harold exist? I thought you would never ask.  Resoundingly, Harold does exist as a person, as an idea, as an icon, and more often as a warning to others. Or maybe he's a folk hero of a unique moment in history, like Paul Bunyan. Paul was the mythical lumberjack who cut down every tree from the Atlantic to the Pacific, which in the old logging days made him a hero. Today, he'd be called an over-productive eco-terrorist. It's a matter of perspective I suppose, at least from the way I'm looking at it.

So, what the hell were we talking about here? Come to think of it, where the hell are we? 

Oh yeah, Harold. 

Is he a human being or hallucination? More one than the other, take your pick, they both apply. He's the inspiration, aggravation, instigation, and perpetuation of the HTB Chronic­-Ills. While Harold is real, the stories are fictitious, wild exaggerations of far more unbelievable factual events. Most were conjured in some crumbling alcove of the author's cerebral cortex whilst experiencing the performance art of Harold's story telling. The most unnerving experience this author's had without handguns, diesel fuel, a cracked out Hawaiian, and explosives being involved. The stories are true in the spirit (180 Proof) of the man, the Legend, the aBUMination, our one and only (thankfully) Bum. While everything has been changed or chemically altered to facilitate sidestepping the whole "legally prosecutable" issue everyone keeps warning, threatening, and reminding me about. (Thank you! Now, leave me alone, I'm trying to write some stuff over here.)

I hope that answers your question. If not, please recall that you (second person, plural) never asked a question as of the time of this writing. So, fuck off. I'm trying to write some stuff over here, but get me a juice box first, then fuck off. 

Much love and voluminous inappropriate licking,

Ghostspell Writer for The Bum