“Do you know why I wear my collar like this?”
I didn’t.
The man sitting in front of me on the trolley proceeded to straighten his jacket collar, which stood up, Fonzi-esque. Due to the style of jacket, and the style of man, it looked extra silly.
“Because there’re these men, see, they follow you around and they kind of come up behind you and—“ he made a slicing gesture at the back of his head “—they cut into you, almost right to the bone, you know?”
Turning around, leaning on the back of his seat, he almost looked straight into my eyes before his crazy glance fleeted away.
“Then they kind of sprinkle something over it, like a dust or something,” he said, while making a sprinkle motion with one hand, and rubbing at the back of his head with the other. “When they’re done, they’ve put a device in you.”
I’m sure I couldn’t help looking a little surprised.
“With the device implanted they can listen to you, and they can talk to you as well. And when they talk, it’s like – you know what TV static is? It looks like that in your head. Everything goes all crazy. And the headaches—”
At this, the man closed his eyes tightly, wincing. He looked to be in pain.
I was speechless.
The man turned around fully, looking up at me, kind of staring over my shoulder and said, “Forty years I’ve been dealing with this. I don’t think I can take it anymore.”
Without saying another word, he stood up and exited the trolley.
***
Note: I'm becoming really bored with crazy people.
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