18th
I guess I have one of those faces that strangers find inviting. People are always approaching me and trying to initiate conversations. I’m not a jerk or anything, but it’s something I just don’t really care for. Today, I stepped outside my suite to take a look at the sky and I noticed a young man in a wheelchair on the walkway a few rooms down from mine. I tried to act like I hadn’t seen him, but the next thing I know he’s peelin’ up next to me in his Quickie. As he closed in, I was relieved to see that he wasn’t handicapped or retarded. He had a cast on his left leg and some other sort of splint on his left arm and a few scrapes and bruises here and there. I didn’t immediately ask him how he sustained his injuries, but after a few minutes of silence interspersed with small talk I was out of options. He said he was ran down while riding his dirt bike by some kid with Down syndrome that escaped from the sanitarium and stole a doctor’s Porsche. That’s not true, but I wish that’s what he had said. I didn’t know what else to say to the kid so, I told him that the reason Abe Lincoln’s head is on the penny is he paid for everything in one cent pieces.
