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There is a man hitting me on the head with an umbrella.
Member rating: No Rating | Words: | Submitted: Thu Jul 11 2002
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There is a man hitting me on the head with an umbrella. There's a man in the habit of hitting me on the head with an umbrella. It's exactly five years today that he's been hitting me on the head with his umbrella. At first I couldn't stand it; now I'm used to it. I don't know his name. I know he's average in appearance, wears a grey suit, is greying at the temples, and has a common face. I met him five years ago one sultry morning. I was sitting on a tree-shaded bench in Wimbledon Common, smoking a cigarette. Suddenly I felt something touch my head. It was the very same man who now, as I'm writing, keeps hitting me, mechanically and impassively, with an umbrella. On that occasion I turned around filled with indignation: he just kept on hitting me. I asked him if he was crazy: he...
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