Cardboard. That’s how it felt like, do they ever mention that you start forgetting simple words as your life wastes away and your cells refuse to renew properly, nope. No one mentioned you’d forget simple words, guess that is the way of the universe.
The cardboard was actually in his hands, he was holding it up, the elegantly handmade sign- anything handmade makes it automatically elegant, that too is the way of the universe… or marketing executives? Anyway, the sign read “F you.”
Cash stood there with the cardboard sign, elegantly handmade, smiling in what he hoped was a welcoming “I’m a poor old man” smile. He swallowed some pills, his white gems, they helped with the headaches and the world.
A girl with a pierced face walked by, read the sign and laughed then continued on her way, perhaps to get more holes. Cash loved sitting there for the entire afternoon observing the reactions of people, their faces twisted either in disgust or in a smile, a psychology experiment if you will. He would know, he preached the subject to both students and patients alike, the students appreciate it, the patience however didn’t see the sense in it, they didn’t see much sense in anything though. As the years passed by him, and his body degenerated he didn’t see the sense in it either, yes, maybe along with his body his brain had decided to degenerated as well, maybe.
He continued to linger on the side of the pavement, “F you, f you.. f f f f f f F yoooouuuu…” He sang under his breath, swinging from one foot to the other slightly losing his balance.
“F you” meant nothing, he wasn’t swearing, passers by were to interpret it in anyway their narrow minds wished. He could see that most saw it as an offensive statement, it’s a letter next to a word, and it meant nothing. People take things that mean essentially nothing and somehow manage to twist the nothingness around into some sort of insult and play victim. And more than anything people just love playing victim.
“Mister. Hey! Mister!” a little girl smiled, it looked fake and plastered.
“Hello child,” He smiled back at her fake-ness.
“Why?” she asked, fake plastic sing song voice.
“Because.” He answered in a mimicking fake plastic sing song tone.
“Because the world is self-destructing?” there were three of her now,
“No because we’re pushing the “blow it all to fucking pieces” button child,” He laughed,
The world swung into focus now, like an HD TV.
“What? Because? I mean why are you holding up this sign… What does it mean? Do you want money? Are you homeless mister?” The child looked confused,
“Well, why not kid?” He smiled down at her. An angry mother grabbed the child and took her away, perhaps to dose her up with dreams and fairytales. Perhaps.
Cash put the cardboard on the floor kneeled down and wrote, “Make of it what you will.” In what he hoped was wise-all-knowing type of handwriting. He then taped to a display window, laughing at his own madness, a 47 year and 5 months old man dressed in a suit and tie hanging up a piece of wisdom on a cardboard.
If you drove past the river island on Central Street you would read “F YOU. Make of it what you will.” Wasted wisdom on humanity really, Cash shrugged, most things were wasted on humanity.
Cash proceeded to cross the street while the little green man flashed at him, he then stood at the middle of the cross roads and bowed to the cars facing him, thank you for providing me with such entertainment. He smiled at the little boy clapping in the car in front of him, and walked, blending into the crowed of mayhem. A respectable businessman, just another normal old guy in a crowed of normal boring people.
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