@basswccd
One of the worst things about being human, Evan thought, was when John Lennon would crawl into the empty caverns of his brain and sing. John Lennon didn’t do that when Evan was a wolf. John Lennon didn’t care to inhabit the brains of wild animals, because wild animal brains spoke less in words or melodies and more in sounds and shapes and instincts. But John Lennon was here now, a dark silhouette against the white static backdrop of Evan’s mind, seated atop a wooden stool as he strummed an acoustic guitar and he crooned the same lyric over and over: Imagine no possessions. Imagine no possessions. Imagine no possessions.
The second worst thing about being human was how sometimes the mind and the body felt like two completely different machines. When one of them got too loud (the mind, almost always the mind), it was as if the other stopped existing. Case in point: it was only at this very second that he started to realize that all the while his brain had been struggling to give imaginary John Lennon an eviction notice, his left hand was absentmindedly using one of the spare markers laying about to scrawl the words IMGNE NOOO POSSESSIONS onto a corner of the cop’s desk.
So getting arrested was going great.
More people in cop uniforms were moving closer to the desk. Tiny imaginary brain-Lennon finally announced his departure when Evan’s mind yelled a very loud FUCK. Evan leaned over, resting an arm over the scribbled words in a measly attempt to cover them. When the officer that was supposed to handle his case finally came over, Evan readied a greeting, except when he opened his mouth, no sound came out, because even after all the surprises this garbage decade had brought, this was the last thing Evan expected. What the fuck, 2019. What the fuck.
Sam Mehta was a fucking cop?
