oh, Barry!

We have an elderly gent staying at The Motel who has been there longer than I have. He's a very odd duck--we'll call him Barry Hunter--who doesn't talk much except to mutter to himself and occasionally meep. He's kind of like our own extremely crazy but mostly harmless Mr Bean.

Barry's been getting up to all kinds of shenanigans lately, which I'll have to further detail later. This past Sunday when I got to work, there was a note about him: "Barry was on fire tonight! Running around till 6:30am, when he finally left. Maybe he'll be tired out when he gets back."

I didn't see Barry Hunter at all til the afternoon. "Barry Hunter returned, 2:35pm," I noted in the logbook. A few minutes later, the head housekeeper poked her head into the office and reported that Barry had stood at the door of the laundry room until the new housekeeper noticed him, and when she tried to give him a stack of towels for his room (he doesn't get regular service, but picks up towels as he needs them), he grunted and threw them on the ground, then walked away. Being new and having no English, she was distraught and confused, hence their summoning me. I walked over to Barry's room, where he was standing and staring at nothing. "Hey, Barry. Did you need something?"
"Washcloth," he muttered.
"Sure, I can get you a washcloth," I said, and headed to the laundry with him following behind. I grabbed two and offered him both. "Did you need one or two, Barry?" I asked.
"Washcloth," he said, grabbing it, and then returning to his room.

Returning to the office, I made a second note: "Barry Hunter terrified housekeeper, 2:35pm."