Sunshine

Blonde people are separate from the rest of us because they inherently are shinier. They glimmer just a bit more than anyone else. Or they look sickly and perverted. Today I saw a man of the sickly sort. His blonde hair was the same color as his skin, creating an optical illusion of texture. He did the very common frustrated-person act of putting his face in his hands and slowly unmasking it, dragging his hands up his face and pushing his hair back. What he revealed when his hands left his face was a huge grin. He laughed to himself in a very nervous way, but too loud to be truly ashamed of it. He laughed like a man who sees a poodle on its hind legs at a funeral. He seemed very concerned with the fact that he was wrong to laugh, but dammit that was funny.
Intrigued by this blonde humorist, I let my eyes scan down to his feet, at which three (three!) jugs of Sunny D sat. Sunny D is a deliciously artificial orange juice drink that is a favorite among mothers that want to have it both ways nutritionally for their kids, taste and health! Sunny D represents a perceived compromise that really only serves one side, the taste side. Sunshine Man, as my mind dubbed him, was clearly in for an exciting night. That is, if he could make it home. With no evidence that I could see that Sunshine had any reason to worry for his safety, he incessantly jerked his head around whenever he laughed. The meaning of the laugh changed immediately. My original thought that he just had a great joke with himself was replaced by the belief that he had in fact stolen the Sunny D and was amused by his lawlessness.
Here is how he must have done it. The Sunny D was is bags from what might have been Jewel or Dominick's or something so he couldn't have just taken them. And these were three full-sized bags of Sunny D so sneaking under his coat was out of the question. Even if they had fit, no one would have believed that this sickly blonde skeleton would have the beer belly equivalent to that much artificial orange juice. So Sunshine brought bags with him, put the D in the bags and pretended to be with someone in the self-checkout aisle and got his bags past the checkout that way. He then proceeded out the door with a grin on his face. That grin had since evolved to the laugh I was watching.
Sunshine looked very happy to me. I can't say I condone his stealing of Sunny D, but it satisfied a craving for him. He just wanted some orange juice, but paying for it, well that wouldn't be exciting. Judging by the shockingly pale pallor of his skin, Sunshine could use some excitement outside of the house. His anxiety and fear would dissipate as soon as he got a taste of that sweet sunshine. Artificial, but what's wrong with reveling in the artificial? Sunshine looked happy and his story made my train ride much more interesting. God bless you, Sunshine.