.45 Caliber Headspace

Hi, my name is Chad, and wait…wait…before the thought even enters your mind, I’ll spare you the congestion. Chad is, in fact, the whitest name that exists. In the dictionary, under “white”, it says, “see also, Chad”, and here I am and yes, true to name, I am very white. Fact is, the sun and I don’t have a good relationship. We went out for a while, things got messy and now I have a restraining order. The sun is no longer allowed to come within 20 yards of me. When the sun broke this order once, I called the cops and the sun was subsequently arrested and beaten up in jail for its sneakers. It hasn’t bothered me since.

To compensate for my blinding whiteness, however, I like to wear all black. This, as I call it, is my white balance. The only problem with a Chad wearing all black is that when I go out in the evening, because it’s dark, the only thing you will see of me is a disembodied white head floating down the street, and that scares some people. To the people that it scares, I don’t blame you. A disembodied white head is scary.

Though if I’m jaunting, merrily (I sometimes jaunt merrily), and if I’m not wearing gloves (I wear gloves while committing homicides, forensics and all); if these two conditions apply, you may just catch a flash of white hand and realize that I am actually a whole white person and you won’t be so scared because a.) you’ll see that I’m jaunting merrily, and b.) you will not see policemen running behind me with a taser gun aimed at my back. At least, not if the night is still young.

Taser guns are for later, much later.