Friday Mourning

"Excuse me," the man with the weathered yellow and black checkered shirt said. Each word from his mouth sounded strained, like speaking was very painful to him, and he walked with a pronounced limp. He could not have been over 25, but his unkempt appearance, made him appear quite a bit older. His brown curls had a sheen to them that suggested having not been washed in weeks, and his high yellow complexion looked sickly. He reeked of body odor and piss.

"Excuse me," he said again, his breathing labored. "Ladies and gentleman, I don't mean to bother you on this fine morning,  but...but...and..so, but..., alas, I am homeless."

The 4 express train opened up to 86th street, and the car, already somewhat full, became packed.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I DO NOT WANT YOUR MONEY " the young man wheezed emphatically. "I have no need for it, after all. I...I...I won't go as far as to say that money is evil. HaHA. No. Yes. Well.  Ayn Rand, that classic heartless fool-bitch, is RIGHT to say that money is the tangible product of man's greatest asset, his mind. But I...I don't want your money. Your dollars and cents.  Your sense, you know like common? common sense? HaHA. Your...Your...Your ideas. YOUR idea, haha!  But who cares  WHO CARES?!"  The man's seemed to have trouble modulating his voice.

The train traffic on the East Side is horrific,  and the 4 train crawled to 59th street. The strange and halting speech of the gasping young man had captured the attention of a number of people on the train, but in typical fashion, they pretended nothing was being said. His visage and repugnant smell, however, had repelled them to one side of the car, and the man had a stage of sorts.

 "NOW..." he continued, after several histrionic breaths, "Now, before you judge me for my disposition and indeed, my position, haha, listen! I used to be like you. BETTER than some of you!  I went to college, got an education!  Actually, I studied literature, and wrote my senior paper contrasting the ironic nuance of James Baldwin's Go Tell it on the Mountain with the brutish nuisance  of Native Son. It was an excellent piece of scholarship, I tell you, excellent and I nearly got it published, but...but...and... it would have made a great dissertation, it really would. could. will. yes."

A teenager who was clearly taking the day off from school turned up the music already blasting in his headphones so that Drake's jack-of-all-trades-master-of-none musical talent seemed to accompany the the homeless man's monologue.

"Ladies and gentleman," the homeless man cried between overzealous coughs,  "I offend you. Don't I? ha! Well, let me remind you that this city is run by a billionaire for whom me.... my situation is...is...is a cognitive exercise. But...that's not what I want to say, so...yes, thats not what I want to say!"

A young woman approached him and extended a quarter. The man limped grotesquely backward, appalled.

"I DON'T want your money, ladies and gentlemen, and gentleman and ladies and.... I DO. Not. WANT it." The man stumbled as the train stopped abruptly at 59th street.  The car rapidly cleared out, as people, recognizing the craziness of the eloquent homeless man, anxiously sought another car.

"My situation..." mused the man, "my situation..."

A police officer entered the train car and crossed his arms, staring the homeless man down. The homeless man defiantly stared back. Finally, he sputtered on.

"For your own sake, and for everybody's sake, and for the world's sake, and for sake's sake,  I beg you to hear me. I am a great thinker. A scholar,  a reader, a Muse of our age. I have so much to share WITH the world and so...no..I...no...no...that's not what I...What I mean is that... Well... You cannot sell yourself to wage slavery and you mustn't yield to... the banality of propriety.  You've got to give yourself over, haha, and reject this age of things and stuff and-"

He was overcome by a fit of dramatic coughing. The police officer looked at him dully. Then,  when the train stopped at Grand Central, he exited the train.

The officer's exodus from the car had the effect of some sort of strange legerdemain. The homeless man's labored speaking vanished, and his limp was gone. He moved about the train vivaciously, and spoke with blinding rapidity.

"Here it is, my friends, Here is what, I must say. to you. must say to you, my friends. It's all pap, pap, PAP!  Your brothers, your sisters, your sons and daughters, and mothers and fathers, and mayors, and senators, and presidents, and congressmen, and rabbis and priests, and...ALL of them! They are tricking you, haHA! They say you can be good, but you will never be good. They say that you possess kindness, but that is DECIDEDLY not so. They say you can be strong, but you are by nature WEAK, that you are powerful, but you are infinitesimally insignificant, beautiful when you are hideously ugly, clean, when you are undoubtably soiled.  You believe ME to be disgusting but it is YOU who are, and will always BE repugnant."

The train moved more rapidly than before, and was already at 14th street. A few intrepid souls entered the car, warily glancing at the homeless man and, despite his scent, sat down. As the train began moving again,   the homeless man began shaking his head, very slowly. After a moment of silence, his sermon continued, his voice alternating absurdly between a whisper and a hysterical shout.

 "You see....you see... EVIL, not the devil or God, or Jesus, or Satan, but EVIL, plain old evil,  is upon us and it's here and its real and its in all of you. There is nothing you can do about it, but KNOW it. That's all. I just want you to KNOW it."

He pointed at empty seats in the car, and, with a enigmatic smile, he shouted "DO YOU KNOW IT? DO YOU KNOW IT? DO YOU KNOW IT? IT? IT? HAHA!

Finally, he was quiet. He moodily stared at the remaining passengers. They napped, and listened to music, checked their watches anxiously, and played with their iPhones.

"But of course. you refuse to know," he began dangerously,  "to KNOW to KNOW. you REFUSEEEEE! Because...because...because...because, because BECAUSE you are so comfortable.   YOU there! What are you a lawyer? No, you're much too nice looking to be a lawyer, you're in finance then! Hm, yes, you are part of the scourge lying and stealing and cheating, and YOU! Why do you look at me with such condemnation!  Won't  you allow this professor of truth and reason to ENLIGHTEN YOU.  You there, with the ear phones making you Deaf! You foolish wicked boy. You, ALLL of you are Foolish. and bad, yes WICKED. WICKED WICKED WICKED! YOU SHALL BE CLEANSED YOU FUCKING FUCKERS!"  And, with that, he moved about the car at a frantic speed, circling around, and around, and around, shouting unintelligibly. Then, standing in the center of the car, he pulled down his pants, and began to pee in every direction, spraying everything in his path.

The people shouted out of fear and outrage, and huddled away, as best they could. At Fulton street, they rushed off, and notified the conductor of the vagabond on the train.

The young man himself stayed in the car, and slumped into a damp seat. His heart beat furiously, and he felt himself begin to tremble. Dully, he remembered the words of his Ancient Cousin "No man is a prophet in his own village."