I know I started posting these out of order but there may be some benefit to this.
This post was updated 2/28/15 with a Grammarly check.
It was a dry winter so far, and Mr. Notion was grateful. His day to day existence was a little more than tolerable when it was a least dry. Even the wind was cooperating today as it had been for the last week. The previous week he had been unable to make his rounds, and his belly had suffered. Now he was satiated with the last of the leftovers from McDonalds and Burger King up the street from where he was now. Even though the cold winds did not blow he ducked into the laundry mat for a respite from the cold. He was having one of his most lucid moments right now. Going to the laundry mat was a small deviation from his routine but feeling so much better today he felt he was allowed this time as a sort of a holiday. ~1~
The pain of his life could flee away to the unconscious in moments like these, and as he sat on a bench bathed in the sunlight pouring in through the large plate glass windows, he soon was in an almost sublime state. Time was starting to heal snatches of the wounds of his psyche. “Even the worst nightmares of life can flee with the dawn and the cool subtle glow of morning light.” He thought this thought and then said to himself that he must write it down. The reality that he had no pen paper soon led him back to the nightmares. Over the next few minutes, coherent thought crept away slowly. He was back in his illusions again. ~2~
For a few moments more he sat there lost in his messiah complex. He didn’t imagine that he was Jesus, he imagined he was the real Jesus and the one before was a fake. There was another story which only he seemed to know, and there was a lost set of gospels. As he walked the streets he healed people and uplifted their spirits, and he never even had to talk to them, or even look then in the eye. His mere presence near them was all that was needed. ~3~
Let me tell you a little more about Mr. Notion. I shall describe him as extremely filthy. Matted long brown hair hung to below his shoulders, long fingernails were black underneath from soil that had been there for months, and I would say he hadn’t taken a bath in at least a year. Every crevice of his fingerprints was infused with black dirt so much that one would think no ink would be needed to take his prints. His head was complete with a beard and mustache which were also matted with dirt, and who knows what. I know there were even a few dried leaf fragments in his hair, and even lying on his shoulder. ~4~
A brown trench coat covered his frame like it would hang on a hanger due to the gaunt figure that it was on. At least three tee-shirts under a large gray sweatshirt could be found under his trench coat. He had on black jeans and gray woolen socks. There was a layer of soil on his clothes, but his particular outfit was only given him last spring–from the local shelter–so it was intolerable condition as far as holes. Big black work boots were on his feet. They probably fit him somewhat when he got them at the shelter but now they flopped as he walked. ~5~
He had been on the streets for as long as he could remember. Yet in his delusions he was not homeless, the whole world was his home. He ignored the looks of disgust in the eyes of onlookers. He knew deep down he was “The Messiah”, and that was how he could bear the torment. Finding time to clean up was not on his agenda; he was too busy healing the people as he walked by them. If he forgot one lost soul in his travels he would have to answer to his “Father.” He didn’t want to do that again. Because of that one mistake he was to wander the streets healing only those whom he could until his penance was paid. ~6~