Weezer: "(If You're Wondering If I Want You To) I Want You To"

So the street was empty ‘cept for me and this old man, and the old man was slowing down in front me giving me the look over his shoulder. And although I had nothing to be guilty about, suddenly I felt incredibly guilty. Did the old man think I was going to lamp him and then run away with his money? I was wearing a cashmere scarf, and a red mohair sweater; unless he was demented, I really don’t see how I’d fit the criminal profile.

Anyway, so the old man stopped, I think, so I’d move ahead. At this point my paranoia kicked in, and I didn’t want to give the old man an advantage, so I stopped too. It was a stand-off in the middle of Putney High Street, in front of the townhouses on a street named after our old prime minister, Disraeli (the street is called Disraeli Street). The old fella didn’t move, so neither did I.

Now listen, the next part is really weird and I’m still thinking about what it means. Because at this point, the old man unbuttons his fly and starts pissing on the ground in front of me, in front of us. The ground between me and the old man. It gets pissed on. And all of a sudden I’m wearing a red mohair sweater carrying a six-pack of COSTA coffee back to my friend’s house at 1pm, and I’m wondering, why is this person pissing in my way? And I’ve never seen anything like this before, it’s unreal; it’s old man’s piss, brown-ish and there’s some post micturition dribbling that he doesn’t shake off, but instead lets it drip.

At this point the old man zips up his fly and turns around, and starts walking. And I realize this is fucking awesome, because he’s blocked my path with piss. There is literally no way for me to walk behind him now, and not step on the piss, or to jump over it w/o risking six medium lattes, because my friends like lattes. So at this point it hits me that the old man won, so I turn back crestfallen and call my friend to meet me somewhere else.

Interesting.