On the way back from work today I was on my bike, on the footpath, going slow, there were people around and they were jumping in front of me. Plus, I think there is something wrong with the balance. Anyway, I slowed right down and got off my bike because I saw a picture stuck to a pole. I went up to it and examined it closely, it looked like Kool Keith. No writing on it, but I was certain the man in the picture was Kool Keith. I was about to get back on the bike and ride off but somebody tapped me on the shoulder. I spun around. It was a short man wearing a bright yellow shirt, his hair stuck straight up and his eyes moved from side to side constantly. He started jabbing his finger at a car parked nearby. A regular-looking sedan.
'Is that your car?' I asked him, it was all I could think of.
He started moving his head, not up and down, or from side to side, but around and around, in a big circle. I looked around, I wanted to see if anybody else was curious about the man, but they all seemed to be going about their business, oblivious.
I said to the man, 'Yes? No? Have you locked yourself out of your car?'
He quit moving his head around and leaned closer and said in a soft voice, 'That car weighs 500,000 kilograms.'
My eyes went back to the car. 500,000 kilograms? That seems a lot, surely it couldn't weigh that much? But, really, I have no idea how much cars weigh. But 500,000?
When I looked back at him, his head was moving up and down and his eyes had grown wider, the eyeballs were still now, looking at me intently. 500,000 kilograms. He was certain of it.
'That seems like too much.' I said dumbly.
Right then he yelled it, '500,000 kilograms!' That got everyone's attention. They all turned to look at the man. He ran up to the car and jumped on to the front part, the lid above the engine. He began jumping up and down, landing heavily, jumping and jumping, his arms swinging out from his body. On his face was an enormous, triumphant grin.
It was hard to believe, but I saw it. I saw him going up and coming down, his shoes making a loud noise on the front lid of the car, he was really coming down with full force. The thing was, he wasn't making a dent, the metal wasn't giving an inch. It remained in perfect shape, stubbornly immune to his mad assault.
This car. Maybe it did weigh 500,000 kilograms, after all.
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2 comments:
i've always wanted to meet a cracked out person. it's one of those things i want to do before i die. when i meet him/her (gender really doesn't matter), i assure you i will fuck with him/her to no end. fuckin around with slightly slow people is tons of fun, but with a crack head, i would have a field day. it would prove to be one of the best moments of my mundane life.
the man wasn't a crackhead, we don't have any in Sydney, but we have heroin junkies, and they always get on the bus, always a couple, a guy and his girlfriend, always facing everybody else, talking loudly about dumb things like 20 cent with their eyes half closed, they are pretty funny, I wouldn't try to to torment them, they seem to torment themselves enough.
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