Article: 261359 of talk.bizarre From: email@example.com (M. Bryant) Newsgroups: talk.bizarre Subject: Towel Head Date: 1 Dec 1995 17:33:52 GMT Organization: University of Washington (Seattle) Lines: 23 Message-ID: <firstname.lastname@example.org> NNTP-Posting-User: mdbryant Status: O X-Status: Out of the blue it hit them... The empty ones walked and watched. Some things they did not want to grasp, it would kill them, make them into something else. The homeless woman's towel, wrapped around her blue blue head. They feel tied down now, like to the moon. She knows what she is and that to which they are all tied. She knows... knows that thing which she needs to do. They gave her someone's credit card for a cup of coffee. Good, black liquid; she trusts the black liquid. They stepped up the box and bought a ticked, "First class to Tulsa, no dreaming please." Rubber band man had played his last concerto. El Concerto Eternal. As they walked onto the bus the players were turning their instruments and they never played a note. Not one stinking note, pal. But they paid for the ticket tomorrow, not to worry. In a place a thousand years away, they passed a man in a breadboard sign... today it said, "the homeless woman will be wrapping a towel soon...repent." They watched him implode, tying himself down, like to the moon. "Next stop, transfer to the blue line, please pay on the train."