Being Retarded
When I was but 19, I lived briefly in Englewood, Colorado, USA, a suburb of Denver. If I missed the first bus to work, I caught the second bus, which numerous retarded people also caught on their way to their work. It was a loopy good time, singing songs and sharing stories with these civil folk.

One weekend in downtown Denver, quite by accident, I ran into several of my retarded friends, who were busy talking to a businessman. My friends immediately pulled me into the conversation. The businessman assumed that if I already knew these folks, then I must be retarded too. None of my carefully-worded statements shook his considered judgment - he simply responded, in a slow sing-song voice: "So, do you go to a workshop every day too?"

It's nice being slow!
(Perv With A Dog had his eyes pecked out by scrub jays on, Sat 8 Jan 2005, 6:35, Reply)