What a world!

I was filling up the tank on the way to the Kroger. A few steps away from me and the gas hose in my hand an insane man hollered and threw imaginary things to the sky and twirled around and screamed, on a corner of Broadway.

He shouted and whimpered and threatened. He bent down to the street and picked up more imaginary things and showed them to the world and threw them into the air and bellowed and whirled around, yowling, apparently in pain.

He was (you could probably fill this in yourself) tattered, unshaven, longhaired, filthy, loud, frazzled, jumpy and Caucasian.

Kids were walking around.

I holstered the gas pump in its stirrup, pocketed the receipt and walked into the 7-Eleven.

I did not exactly cut in line, but bellied up to the counter between the lines and told the busy cashiers: “There’s a scary crazy guy out there. You should call the police.”

That got everyone’s attention. Silence at the 7-Eleven. Necks stretched and craned.

Then a guy next to me at the head of a line said, “Nah, he’s a nice guy. He just does that more often now. I’m gonna give him a pack of cigarettes.”

And sure enough, the man paid seven dollars for a pack of cigarettes and headed out the door.

He was a short fellow, maybe five foot six, a bit fat, a bit husky, but neither of those things. His orange jumpsuit was stained from countless jobs: blue paint, white plaster, black tar and godnose what else. Work boots. Scruffy beard. You get the picture.

I hustled after him till we were walking side by side. “I don’t want to bust the guy,” I said. “I think the police need to take care of him. Somebody does.”

“Nah, he’s OK,” the man said. “He won’t even take money from you unless he can do something for you.”

When we got to the corner the man was gone. Looked both ways, up and down the street. Nope. Vanished.

The guy shrugged and headed back to the store to return the $7 pack of cigarettes.

I held him back for a second. “Hey, man,” I said. “You’re a nice guy.”

He shrugged.

I patted him on a shoulder. Typical guy stuff.

I have no wise words to say about this, draw no conclusions, nothing that could help anyone become more trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean or reverent. It’s just something that happened. A story about a crazy guy and a good guy, and a guy who saw it happen.

The only comment I can think of comes from my second-favorite character in “The Wizard of Oz,” the Wicked Witch of the West, as all of her “beautiful ugliness” melts in water thrown from a bucket: “What a world! What a world!”

My favorite character was the Cowardly Lion.

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