insane-o

i ran into a very strange man on Hollis Street today.
he was a shady looking character and he was clutching something tightly against his chest. it appeared to be a box of laundry/dish detergent but i couldn't be sure because it was badly weathered.
he had his back against the brickish wall of some building and was trying to stand up on his hind legs but kept falling over because A) his feet were skidding on the loose gravel, B) he refused to loosen his grip on the detergent and C) was obviously not in a completely stable state of mind.
so i figured i'd do my good deed for the day and at least get buddy on his feet so he could stagger off to go conjure some orcs in the park, or whatever it is these people do.
i approached him and asked if he needed a hand.
with the reflexes of an electrified squirrel, he twisted around (shielding his precious detergent) glared at me, and screamed "i'm perfectly sane! it's you! it's you!" in a very damning tone.
i knew he was lying, but decided to leave anyway.
exit stage left.
have a good one buddy.
i'm not here to judge.
go eat some more detergent.