The Man Was Made of Bones

(I apologize to those who have already read this on my blog)

I took a walk to the nearest restaurant: a big-time fast-food joint (No need to mention the name, I assume you all know which I am referring to). I quickly and readily ordered my food after agonizing over the decision throughout the walk. I was fairly happy, seeing as I was distracted from the tormenting aspects of my life, but the walk came to an end, my order was placed, and my food, retrieved.

I chose to sit in a booth, that could have been filled by maybe seven or eight people, just to aggravate the masses of people who could not find seats for their large groups. It amused me for some time as my head was hidden behind the trash can and their hopes were stripped when they realized that a lonely man was sitting in the booth in the crowded restaurant. I had a perfect view of the entire place and decided to watch the men, women and children in the establishment.

Oh, how rowdy the children were. Running and jumping, they would fall and scream, going about their games. I thought about it for a moment: the games I used to play as a child made so much sense to me then, but as I think about them now, there were a lot of bases that we did not cover, a lot of loose ends and loopholes.

No matter (where was I?). An elderly man, easily passed his seventieth year of age, walked past my booth. His lower lip was gravity's bitch, as my friend would say. His mouth remained agape and his eyes seemed lost and confused. He wore a winter jacket, tuque and held a scarf in one hand with a cup of coffee in his other.

The man was made of bones. His hand reminded me of Death and I was struck with fear. He sat in a chair, staring at me from a forty-five degree angle as if I were next.

I realized I was stupid to think that this man was Death. If anything, he was Death's next victim. I continued sipping from my drink and ate a few more french fries, all while thinking about this man and what he was thinking. He barely interacted with the world around him. He read a newspaper for a total of ten seconds, grew bored of it and let it slide onto the table in front of him. I looked at him, flashed a polite smile when he looked at me, but to no avail. I do not enjoy being ignored, so I muttered words to myself about his lower lip being gravity's bitch, chuckled and enjoyed my meal.

I made a bet with my inner self that this man would collapse and die whilst exiting the restaurant, that he would not slip, but die suddenly and then collapse, behind the trash can that hid me, right in front of the exit.

He stared at me like he knew I had made that bet with myself. Once again, I flashed a polite smile and continued eating, but I was worried he could read minds. I have been watching a lot of science fiction shows lately and mindreading was a feat I was definitely interested in. Alas, he was angry at the fly that hovered between us. At least, he was interacting with something.

The man got up and collapsed as I thought he would, where I thought he would, in the position I imagined he would land (He must have known something). Everyone rose to a panic: mothers sheltered the children, people crowded around him, one man took charge, because he had taken a first aid class (at least I assume he did), many people retrieved their cellular phones from their pockets and dialed 9-1-1. I sat in my booth, smiling delightfully, muttering the words "I told you so" under my breath. I was proud of my prediction, but it was an easy one to make. I mean, the man was made of bones.