Hit them with a hammer

"I can't move my toes" It was the guy who listened to the radio in town.  For as long as I could remember, the "guy who listens to the radio in town" had been wandering around the center of Christchurch, Cathedral Square down to Cashel Mall with a radio on his shoulder.  He obliged anyone who was in ear-shot with accompaniment to whatever was playing.  Whether it was the news, talk back or rock and roll, the guy who listened to the radio in town would sing along.  The words - if you could call them that were like none other known to man.  It could be more aptly described as a prolonged roller coaster groan in a deep monotone.  A large smile lit up the man's face from ear to ear as he walked by.  His lunch in a plastic bread bag clutched in one hand, the other holding the radio on his shoulder, pressed hard against his ear.  The volume was high.  It was a new radio now, a silver one.  Not the old two deck cassette/radio monster he had had for so many years.  That's technology for you - we all move on, upgrade eventually.  Talk about planned obsolescence and monopolised product development.  Blimmin corporate control of blimmin everything.  

"I can't move my toes".  He was on the number 3 bus into town.  He got out of his seat and stood next to the driver, one hand steadying himself on a nearby pole.  He could not have stood any higher than five feet off the ground.  He obviously ate well enough as his weight to height ratio was perhaps below the generally accepted norm.  A baggy checkered shirt rolled up to the elbows and trousers made of that soft fabric stuff - the sort they make skivvies out of, and a pair of good shoes that he'd found at an Op shop were his protection against the elements.  "Hahah, it's the guy from in town..." I did not attempt to suppress the smile as I spoke to my brother.  "Shut up".  "What?".  My brother gave me the evil eye and I shrugged innocently.  "He lives close to us".  Hmmm, does he... "It doesn't matter", I returned - "it's fine...".  The brother was right, but younger so I couldn't possibly take his advice and ignore the amusing scene that was now developing at the front of the bus.

The bus driver was a Pacific Islander with a short un-braided pig-tail of his jet black hair held back by a couple of rubber bands... I guess.  He kept his eyes on the road and spoke to the guy who listened to the radio in town.  "What's wrong?".  "I can't move my toes" returned the man.  The bus driver thought for a while.  "I know what you can do" he said, an invisible grin on his face.  "I can move my legs" - the man who listened to the radio in town demonstrated this fact.  "But I can't move my toes".  He seemed to be taking some unholy delight in his predicament.  While not looking particularly concerned, he spoke in a pained voice but with that perpetual smile on his face.  A smiling face.  Guy couldn't help it.  He always smiled.  He had smiled as I explained the petition to him.  He had smiled as he attempted signing the petition.  Two big scribbles across the A4 sheet was as much as he could manage, and good on him.  He understood even with his brain in the condition it was in, that good parents know the difference between a smack and child abuse.  I had thrown the petition sheet - empty other than his signature into the nearby rubbish bin as soon as he was out of sight.

"I know what you can do" - the bus driver spoke again.  "Hit your toes with a hammer".  The man who listened to the radio in town looked down at his shoes and then towards the back of the bus, keeping an eye on his audience.  I nodded at him and his grin widened.  "Would it hurt?".  The bus-driver informed the man that yes, it would hurt.  "Would they bleed?".  "No, they won't bleed.  Hit them with a hammer" replied the bus-driver.  "Would they booze?".  The bus-driver didn't understand.  Two more times the man asked the question.  Eventually the bus-driver understood.  "Yes, it would bruise your toes.  Hit them with a hammer".  The gaming geek with long blonde hair at the front of the bus on the left shot a carefully suppressed amused smile at the back of the bus.  I returned the smile, laughing openly.  This encouraged the gamer, and I heard a quiet laugh.  The well dressed late twenties guy with the baseball hat sitting in front of me and to the left gave the ghost of a smile.

The man who listened to the radio in town thumped his chest.  "My heart's fine".  The bus-driver nodded.  "My body's fine, but I can't feel my toes".  "Hit them with a hammer" replied the bus-driver.  He spoke in dead earnest, his voice laced with an almost indiscernible mirth.  The man looked behind him again, the picture of confusion.  "My body's fine" he said again as he took his seat facing the back of the bus.  He smiled uncannily at the young woman sitting opposite him.  She shifted on her seat uncomfortably and he smiled again.  "Here's another thing you could do", the bus-driver spoke again.  The man stopped his repeat demonstration of how his legs worked fine, but his toes did not.  He headed over to the bus-driver again; the young woman looked relieved.  He was a good friendly man, perhaps a little too friendly, and his speech was slurred and not too easy on your ears.  The bus-driver was in his element and continued speaking with no prompting.  

"You could poke them with a pin".  Again, he spoke in a serious tone as he continued to elaborate on the procedure whereby one could perform the aforementioned operation upon one's self.  "Would they bleed?"  The man who listened to the radio in town spoke out in a concerned, shrill voice.  "Yes... But you would know if you could feel them then" returned the bus-driver helpfully.  "Would they get bruised?"  He looked behind him again with a sparkle in his eyes, his face conveying that he knew it was all a bit over the top though it was something to be taken seriously.  "No, it wouldn't bruise them".  "Would it hurt?".  "Yes, it would hurt... You know, something else you could do, you could just get someone to jump on your toes".  The bus-driver had obviously done a first-aid course or something, as it appeared as though he had all the answers when it came to a case where someone had lost the feeling in their toes.  Either that or his rich brother who was a paediatrician had been giving him a few tips.  "Get someone to stamp on them".

By this time I was laughing out loud.  The blonde gaming geek rested an arm on the other seat and turned round again, his face contorted in a spasm of ridiculous amusement.  The man with the bad toes laughed a bit and sat down again and the bus continued down the road into town.