run out of imagination

on the train yesterday, i had the strongest urge to pop a man with a newspaper.

he was an old white man. very distinguished and very poised. he wasn't the CEO type at all, but rather looked more like a door to door salesman that had done well enough to retire. the top of his head was bald, and the sides were covered with white/gray hair. the light that glistened off the top of his head is what attracted me to him and was the sole source of my urge.

don't get me wrong, i don't usually have the urge to smack people with newspaper. it had just so happened that on this occasion, i had two newspapers given to me on the street. and with them folded together in my hand, i couldn't help but realize how capable they were to swing with great force.

his head was calling me.

and there he stood. in front of me, an arms length away. leaning against the train doors in a light brown and battered suit and solid gray tie. he was reading a magazine, oblivious to how i was staring at the shining spot at the top of his head, the eternal glow that called to me, beckoning me to give it attention that it so desired. his glasses occasionally slipped down his nose and every now and then he sniffed back the allergies that have haunted him since 3rd grade.

my right hand tightened its grip around the newspapers. my left hand held steadily to the standing pole in the train car. my heart and mind begged me to just give one solid blow to the top of this man's head. soley for the sake of curiousity. all i wanted at that point and time in live was to know what he would do. how he would handle it. i had to know his response! for i couldn't, for the life of me, see him fling his hands in the air in outrage, storming towards me ready to fight. i couldn't envision him ranting and raving pointless threats to the top of his lungs to save face. no. as i saw it, i would have smacked him over the head with the newspapers, caused a stir in the train as everyone turned to look at this man turn red, he would be furiously looking back and forth from me and the dozens of eyes upon him, and then he would have stared at me a while trying to figure out what to do.

"it's too dumb of an act to get off at the next stop to tell the police", he would have thought, "but at the same time, it was an assult that can't possibly go ignored."

and so he would have stared. and quite honestly, as vivid as my daydreams may be most times, thats where my imagination ends. i cannot figure what he would do after the stare! nothing? something? i don't know! i have no guess or earthly idea!!

and that is why i felt the need pop a man with a newspaper yesterday.
surely, anyone in the same situation would have done the same thing.