There was a man who didn’t think any thoughts. He wasn’t very interesting. He wasn’t very funny. He saw things and looked at them. He heard sounds but wasn’t annoyed at all. Often was he surprised. And with people he wasn’t rushed or rude. Sometimes they thought he had bad manners. Sometimes they thought he was stupid. He never supposed anything. He didn’t think to. Sometimes he sang. He didn’t know why. He never thought to wonder. It made him happy to help people. He never was much help. He didn’t really know how. But mostly people felt helped after meeting him. Or frustrated. He never got much done. But he survived.  Sometimes he sat in one place watching until his bum disappeared. And when he moved again it was like his bum was made of lazy electricity. He was always late. He always needed money and food. When he looked at advertisements he liked the eyes of the models within them. He liked pretty things. He farted in front of anyone. He slept a great deal. He slept so much that eventually he died. When he went up to God, God was like: “Man, what a waste”. And the man said nothing.

And then everything else in the whole world happened and no one thought of the man again, except when they were quiet, or stressed, or scared. And in those moments they would remember that pleasant little man who didn't really know how, and really didn’t need to.


The End.