Alouicious

The first time I saw Alouicious, he was running across the busy street in a fine black suit, pressed white shirt, full length black overcoat, and first-rate black fedora. In a flash of black, white and the red of his face, he looked like a track star, lithely jumping cars instead of hurdles.

The second time I saw Alouicious, only split second later, he was standing on my bus. It was only then that I noticed that he was old—possibly 80 years in age—and his clothes were a little too big, seemingly tailored to a body that once was. His face was the color of a Red Delicious apple and his old skin was smooth and pulled taut over his skull. Between the thinness of his neck, the velvetiness of his skin and the soft curve of his chin, his head looked like a penis poking out from the spacious starched collar of his white dress shirt. A penis in a gentleman’s cap-- how wonderful! I turned away to make room for another passenger and with a flick of the bony wrist on the stop chord, a site which I caught out of the corner of my eye, he disappeared from the bus as quickly as he arrived.

I hope that’s not the last I see of Alouicious.