From    :Beinfang #36
To      :All
Subject :Not REALLY poetry...
DateTime:6:37 pm  Wed May 08, 1991

(Golden oldie... <SPACE> me if you've seen this one... "The Man With the
Cubicle on His Head")...

I've seen a lot of strange things over the years. Living in one of the
nation's biggest cities and working downtown, a guy is bound to run across a
few eccentric folks every now and then. I thought I had seen everything until
the man with the cubicle on his head came along.

I'd spot him almost every day during the lunch hour rush. Judging by his taste
in fine quality vested suits, I figured he might be an executive. No one knew
where he worked, though. He always carried a briefcase. And tucked under one
arm was the daily newspaper. He would have simply blended into the crowd of
lunchtime pedestrians, if not for the black cubicle which covered his head.

The cubicle appeared to be made of glass, or perhaps acrylic, heavily tinted.
IT WAS DARKER THAN MY CAR WINDOWS. He obviously could see out, since he had no
problems maneuvering through the crowds or crossing the streets. But no one
could see in. My lunch companions and I used to speculate on what sort of
horrible disfigurement he must have suffered; perhaps he was a modern-day
elephant man.

He seemed to stand tall and proud, and he walked with an easy, self-confident
gait. But he never attempted to converse with anyone, and likewise, no one
ever attempted to chat with him. For the most part, people just stepped
politely out of his way.

After a while, the lunchtime sighting of the man with the cubicle on his head
was no longer such a big deal. He had become a familiarity. But one day a
woman at another table pointed out that the man now had some sort of sticker
on the back of his cubicle. All of us in the restaurant crowded the window to
see what it was. We didn't find out until the next day that it said "Ultra
HOT."

October 12th was the big date. That was the day we finally found out what was
under the cubicle. Word has it that the man was making his rounds a little
later than usual that afternoon, after most of the lunchtime traffic had
cleared, when a vagrant approached him and asked him if he knew he had a
cubicle on his head. The man paused for a moment, and then started to move
along again, but the vagrant jumped out in front of him and blocked his path,
and said, "I asked you a question!" The man with the cubicle on his head
opened up his briefcase and produced one of those little slates, you know,
where you write on a thin sheet of plastic and erase it by lifting the sheet
off its wax backing. And he wrote, "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you. I have a
cubicle on my head."

Anyway, the vagrant kept bothering the man with the cubicle on his head, and
finally said something like "take that thing off so I can see your face." And
before the man knew what was happening, the vagrant had ahold of the cubicle
with both hands. They struggled with each other for a moment or two, until
finally the vagrant wrested the cubicle from the man's head and stumbled
backwards. The man shrieked. The vagrant and the onlookers stared in amazement.

The man looked okay.

Normal. Rather handsome actually. He composed himself, walked over to the
stunned vagrant, and took back his cubicle. He looked it over, apparently
examining it for any possible damage. He scowled at the vagrant, and then
turned his attention to the growing crowd. "Assholes," he said, placing the
cubicle back on his head.

I don't know whatever became of him. I rather miss the days when the novelty
of that sight would liven up my lunch hour. Oh, he's probably still passing by
the restaurant every day... who can tell now that every Tom, Dick and Harry is
wearing a damn cubicle on his head.

[Riders on the Storm]