Thoughts of a Mad Man

Rush write... I like this. Am I alone?

(Also edited and posted as a story, right or wrongly. Blog commenting even heckling is appreciated.)





I saw a pink flamingo, on the lawn.





I groaned. This was my lawn, not theirs. "Who put that there?" I got out my baseball bat, and walked toward the door.





The door bounced against the hinges and the bird flew away.





"A real flamingo?" I dropped the bat, glared at the thing.





It rolled off the porch.





"Stupid bat," I said, as if somehow, the bat had caused my aggressive mood. As if it was the bat that caused me to waste the joy of such a strange encounter.





I picked it up and put it in it's place, where it would wait for my next violent urge.





"I hope that one is at least appropriate."





I saw my neighbor riding his bike past me





He pedaled on as if I were harmless. As if I had not just tried to fly into a rage. As if I did not lovingly, almost lovingly, place a baseball bat beside my door in preparation for the people around me. I ran my fingers through my hair. "What am I doing? How did I get here?"





My cat Caleb walked up to me.





I avoid looking in the mirror as I pick him up and stroke him, feeling very much like a balding, middle aged cartoon.





His purr soothes me, and I find the courage to look in the mirror.





I am that cartoon, and I recoil at what I see, but it's not visible. I should say, I resemble that cartoon. I am the very subject of it. But I am also flesh and bone in three dimensions. Three dimensions that I can see. There may be more.





"You don't mind that I'm an idiot and a clown, do you Caleb?"





Caleb purrs and rubs my face.