Oscar Gets Confused

Oscar gaped at the man sitting beside the curb and said, “My word, man, you’ve got a head!” Oscar swiped his sweaty hands across his thighs. The denim jeans sucked up the moisture.
            The headed man regarded Oscar with nonchalant eyes, lazy in their sockets. “Yes, what of it?”
            Oscar hiccupped with a scoff. “What of it? As if he has never seen a stranger sight!” He slashed his arm back and forth over his shoulders. “Look here, my man, no head.”
             Headless pedestrians crowded the wide sidewalk. The neatly laid bricks came apart for slender trees paced such that their canopies provided unblemished shadows. A cool breeze ruffled the light red leaves. Autumn blushed tremendously in its early weeks. Everyone sauntered by without a second look at the heady man.
            “I see that you have no head,” he said.
            Oscar rolled a wrist, “Yes, do go on.”
            “I don’t see what else there is to go on…”
            Oscar straightened up and chuckled, laughed, and held his chest as he guffawed. He shrugged.

“I’ve never seen such a hopeless case! Well, can’t help a man if he’s got a head about him.”

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