He is tall.

For this story to really come together you have to see it- he is tall and super skinny.

He always wears super skinny jeans that cut off at his ankles and he wears tight shirts

so that

you will

see he is, you know it, super skinny.

 

One day he got on the train and  he was wearing super skinny light colored jeans that

were just touched with a shade of pink

and he was wearing  a very nice pink shirt

and as he walked by me,

and my eyes worked  way up to his head,

I saw that where his hair is not quite

shaved completely off

was dyed pink.

Did I mention he had one of those little top knots?

That was dyed pink too.

 

Now.

His hair wasn’t just any shade of pink- it wasn’t shell pink, or blush or whatever other

names they give to light shades of pink.

It was flaming hot pink.

 

Pink is my favorite color, so you know I was into it.

 

But as he walked by me the thought popped into my head- and you need to know

I said to myself as

the image barged it’s way into my brain

Go away silly juvenile thought! Be Gone!

But it was no good.

The thought took root and bloomed.

The Super Skinny Tall Guy

looked like a super skinny walking condom.

A pink one.

 

I was intrigued.

It’s not like you wouldn’t  notice him- you were bound to have  some kind

of  reaction

and nothing is going to get someone’s attention like a condom running to catch the

train, right?

 

I wondered, if he died his hair blue  or light green or purple and he wore clothes to

match  his hair,

would he still look like a

tall super skinny condom?

 

I’m hoping that when I see him again his hair is a different color, because in a world

where the surprises that pop up from day to day can be horrific,

I am

curious and ready for this one  in a good way.