Let me introduce you to Kenny, the King of England, and Lord help you if you encounter him strutting his stuff in bike shorts on the beach.
Lord help you, friends.
Kenny looks strangers in the eyes and tells them he’s the King of England (gonna go ahead and capitalize that for him) and that he’s got the paperwork to prove it. In his bags, he has old books containing the proof.
Kenny’s got what are called facsimiles, and they’re worthless. I owned a used bookstore. I know things about books.
“No way. These are valuable original artifacts.”
Kenny’s shaking his head vigorously, really believing in himself.
“These are the real deal. My family passed it down. I’m for real.”
He confirmed it with a confident nod.
My buddy Alfonso and I just cannot stop listening to King Kenny and laughing. The man is hilarious, and he loves making us laugh. Alfonso and I spend the afternoon trying to rein him in at the Santa Barbara Wharf, and all things considered, I think we failed. King Kenny reigned.
I’m not sure how to get this across without seeming like I supported King Kenny’s behavior. I totally rejected his behavior, and took active measures against them, and at the same time, I was laughing about it, and so were lots of other people.
The guy is endearing, like a young child, easily lovable.
I was test-driving this bench…
A homeless man had lived on this bench in a high-traffic area for years, and he recently got received up into housing assistance, complete with cable tv. It was early, about 6 in the morning. I laid back on the bench and began to fall asleep.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the shadow of a man sit on the opposing bench. The man places a bag on the ground and slowly slides it my way, like we’re doing an illegal arms deal or something.
In the bag, I see two Pepsis, a bag of fun-size Snickers and BBQ chicharrones.
It’s Alfonso, my bro, and he went to the Dollar General. He doesn’t even want any.
While I break into my third Snickers, we see this guy straight out of a western movie. Now, I’m also straight out of a western movie, so Alfonso is already laughing at both of us.
Kenny’s from Kentucky, and he’d never seen anything like the Santa Barbara Wharf. He stepped off a Greyhound, wandered to the famous beachfront and thought he was in heaven. Only Kenny’s heaven was filled with the view of the butts of strange women walking by.
He would tell women that he liked their butts, that their butts were very attractive, and they’d tell him, “Thank you.”
And then Kenny would say, “You’re welcome,” and they’d laugh together.
Also, Kenny was holding up his phone the whole time, recording everything.
“Dude, Kenny,” said Alfonso. “Everyone can see the light on your phone. You’re recording, bro. That’s creepy.”
But Alfonso was just looking at the same butts without recording.
For a man to protect his gaze is a finer point of the walk, and Alfonso wasn’t there.
Kenny’s pitch to the ladies was hard to beat, since nobody can deny the benefits of marrying the King of England. He offered to make them queens, and they really appreciated that gesture. Over and over, I watched him do it.
If I ran a PUA course, it would be titled, Going Full Disney. It’s as if these ladies grew up being told they were princesses, and they just want to hear it again.
That was a fun day at the beach.
Then the abomination happened. For some ungodly reason, some ungodly person donated men’s Spandex short-shorts to the shelter, and ungodly King Kenny ungodly snagged them.
“I’m gonna impress the ladies now. Muuaaaawwwhaahaaahaaa…”
Like that.
I knew where I wouldn’t be the next day, and I was right. I wasn’t there.
That night, I sat across from him, and he was burning lobster-red all over. I mean, I think I could feel heat coming off him.
“It don’t hurt! I regret nothing!”
He never showed any signs of pain.
Kenny would listen to my preaching, but he never heard what I was saying. He was more concerned with getting to LA, where he could identify himself and claim his inheritance as the King of England.
Don’t try to make sense of that.
Kenny had a plan to walk from Santa Barbara to LA, pulling his rolling luggage like he was going through an airport.
“Kenny. Those wheels won’t make it three blocks.”
“What do you mean? They work great!”
I wasn’t up for it.
“When are you leaving?”
“Later today!”
“I said you wouldn’t go,” said Mississippi, who said Kenny wouldn’t go, because Kenny didn’t go.
Kenny said he’d had a heart attack along the way, and sure enough, he had a broken ER bracelet dated from the day prior. That could have been from an asthma attack, for all anyone knew, but dude brought receipts nonetheless.
After breakfast, Kenny wanted to walk with me and some other guys. It was before dawn and we were walking to the wharf for sunrise.
It was all good until Kenny introduced me to some strangers as a Bible preacher, which is fine, but then he told them he was the king of England.
That really messes with my witness, man.
I know Kenny doesn’t walk past the bridge, though.
“Why y’all gotta go into town?” he asked.
“We’re just walking around everywhere, Kenny.”
“That part of town is boring”
What Kenny means by boring is, it’s not the beach.
“See ya later, Kenny.”
A brother wanted a KJV Bible (praise God), and we had a budget of about $0.00. Catholic Charities had none, and the two KJV churches were closed. It’s strange to me that churches only operate on certain days.
Feeling somewhat defeated, we wandered back toward the beach.
Kenny saw us coming and yelled, “Hey!”
The guys wanted to turn back, but we couldn’t just ditch Kenny. Not again anyway.
He was excited. “Gotcha a little present…”
He was carrying a plastic bag. He reached in and pulled out a black leather KJV. It was an old Oxford edition.
“Ya like it? Ya like it, right?”
“Kenny. This is amazing. You know Michael’s been looking for a Bible, right?”
“Nope! Just thought you’d like it. You like it, right?”
“I love it. Can Michael have it?”
“Give it to whoever you want!”
Michael couldn’t stop asking, “What?” His mind was blown.
“Where did you get it?” I asked.
“The King will never reveal his sources. I’m a very wealthy man.” He laughed. “You like the Bible, right?”
“It’s perfect. You did God’s work today.”
Kenny reached over and put his finger on the Bible. “You see that there? That says Oxford. That’s in England, my kingdom.”
“Understood.”
“And you see that? It says, King James. You see that?”
“Yep.”
“He’s my brother.”