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elfsI was on the bus the other day, and as I stood behind the yellow line waiting for my stop, the next stop, I spotted a young man, probably in his early 20's, sitting in the front section of the bus, and he was wearing a tail. Not just any tail, but a big, bushy racoon's tail, clipped to the belt at the back of his pants.
"That's a pretty nice tail."
He looked at me, startled, like I'd just called him something nasty. He shook himself, said, "Thanks," in a very clipped tone.
"No, really. And the shirt. Is that a Michelle Light drawing?"
"Don't know," he said. He wasn't willing to make eye contact.
"Do you know who drew it?"
"No," he said, turning his head even further away. It was that pathetic, short "no" from someone who really doesn't want to talk to you. I felt kinda sorry for him. He'd gotten the courage, or maybe the desperation, up enough to wear his tail in public, and a furry t-shirt, but then he didn't want to talk about it, address it, or be addressed on it. He got off at the same stop I did and very hurriedly walked away.
(Headline explained here, if you didn't recognize it.)
"That's a pretty nice tail."
He looked at me, startled, like I'd just called him something nasty. He shook himself, said, "Thanks," in a very clipped tone.
"No, really. And the shirt. Is that a Michelle Light drawing?"
"Don't know," he said. He wasn't willing to make eye contact.
"Do you know who drew it?"
"No," he said, turning his head even further away. It was that pathetic, short "no" from someone who really doesn't want to talk to you. I felt kinda sorry for him. He'd gotten the courage, or maybe the desperation, up enough to wear his tail in public, and a furry t-shirt, but then he didn't want to talk about it, address it, or be addressed on it. He got off at the same stop I did and very hurriedly walked away.
(Headline explained here, if you didn't recognize it.)
