My girlfriend and I have seen the Duct-Tape Guy outside of two fish-and-chips restaurants (Spud and Ivar's). He's in the U-District quite a bit, too. He's one of the more intimidating crazies I've seen in this city. If he gets struck by lightning or dropped into a vat of radioactive waste, we're all toast!
Duct Tape Guy is also known in some parts as The Chrome Sheriff. The Hopscotch Boys have a song about him.
Awesome. I want a ride from Miss Direction and I want her to take me directly to Duct-Tape Guy!
Holy crap! I've seen that guy too. He came into Hardwicks on Roosevelt about a month ago, wearing the disturbing duct tape mask and stinking to high heaven. Wonder what his story is?
no, flat-chested is all grey right now.
Everyone: Meet the Bee-Keeper.
It's spring so he's taken off the plastic shield that used to cover his entire face, but rest assured, he lingers around the Jack in the Box on 50th and University, scaring off small college freshman with deep Darth Vader-like gasps for air, as heinous as the duct-tape chinstrap he attaches to his jaw.
Last summer, the bee-keeper got his name because instead of the plastic shield he donned this winter or the duct-tape chinstrap he's wearing now, he had a mesh, bee-keeperesque hood surrounding his entire head with a duct-tape lined hole for eating (babies) near his mouth.
This is the scariest homeless man on the Ave. Duct-tape is only half the story. It's only half his costume. God help us all when the summer comes, with its bees and bugs, and he covers his head in mesh once again to become: The Bee-Keeper!
Wow. How intimidating do you have to be to be the scariest homeless guy in the U District? Terrifying!
I see Duct Tape guy all the time, and notwithstanding his appearance, he's quiet and polite and a threat to nobody (and if you think he's scary - you should see his car).
For a bunch of "big city" wannabees, y'all are a bunch of chickenshit candy asses when it comes to mentally ill homeless people.
His car must look like Lucifer then.
It's all in the scary appearance. It's terrifying when you're at Jack in the Box at 2 am and suddenly you feel you are not alone. Then, dread takes over. You turn and the Bee Keeper is upon you. Swarming with his voodoo bees.
My first encounter with Tape Man was on Mardi Gras, which is Pancake Day. A friend and I went to the now-closed IHOP to bask in pancakey goodness. Foresight lacking, we had not realized that the free pancake campaign had converted the place into Seattle's ritziest soup kitchen. All but two employees had abandoned their post; the management itself was afraid to enter the building. We waited a short time before deciding it was a bad idea to stay, but right before we left, we saw him.
From behind, he's rather unassuming: just a tall man in a large heavy overcoat and hat. Except that the coat had a sleeve torn off and a tshirt wrapped around the arm as a replacement. I noticed his right hand had a band of duct tape around it. He turned to face us, if it can be called that, and only then did I see the horror of his face, with only one spectacled eye peering wildly from behind the tape.
After escaping, we looked back to see the man behind the window. Although he was wearing a coat, the waist of his pants were sitting at half-thigh, and below the hem of his shirt and his mottled and somewhat distended stomach skin hung his genitals, loosely bound in duct tape as well, but imperfectly so, such that bits of scrotum and penile flesh peeked through. Some people describe things that induce a moment of what feels like maddness. They have no idea.
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