He's the new village idiot of sorts, 19 years old, wanders aimlessly about the kitchen between the dishwashing and salad station, hardly working, you'd need a time-lapse camera to actually see him in any way contributing to the workload...lives at home, spare time spent on the X-Box or computer, editor for 4Chan & Reddit, not exactly stupid, but something's missing...
He walks, lumbers, shuffles, slowly, a psych patient in a psych ward, arms hang by his side, bent 90 degrees at the elbow and again at the wrist, reminding you of the T-Rex toy from Toy-Story, he's painfully slow at whatever he's told to undertake (and that's the only way they'll be undertook, in 4 months he hasn't figured out what exactly his routine should be), he meanders without a speck of motivation whatsoever, is happy to stop and chat and catch up, he's good natured enough, takes our ribbing, laughs, how could he not? Little Ralphie Wigham, this was the kid that got his tongue stuck to the monkeybars every recess, every winter until Grade 12. Not surprisingly, this is the longest he's held a job. He corners me as I'm outside trying to have a cigarette...explaining to me:
"You know, often people who try and blow their brains out recover and find that they managed to get rid of whatever it was that was bothering them..."
He knows this, he saw it on the internet, a thread on reddit or some-such...
Essentially, it's curing themselves through suicide. I can't believe he's telling me this, and I'm torn...
"Did you try this?" I ask, "Because if you did, it would explain an awful lot...Otherwise, I think you're just tempting me to recommend it to you..."