Space/time traveller

..Through Road, where I alighted and the wrapper continued on its involuntary
travels.
I observed that the departed burger-meister had eaten everything but a solitary
slice of tomato, but as to whether this was due to time constraints or simply
taste preferences I was naturally unable to tell. In fact, there wasn’t
much I could deduce from the evidence before me, apart from the obvious;
the tomato-shy burger eater was clearly a space traveller, if not indeed a time
traveler, whom I had missed tele-porting back to his vessel by perhaps only
a matter of minutes.
I wondered what this traveller made of our planet/time while he was here. How
did he feel about our so-called economic crisis for instance? Perhaps he felt
that there was a perfectly good reason why the world of finance has never made
sense to people like me; i.e. it doesn’t make sense. Being a
space/time traveller lends one objectivity after all, and objectivity can bring
stunning clarity to otherwise confusing situations.
I wonder what he would’ve made of me? He would’ve seen an exhausted,
ill-dressed gent slumped before him, past his prime and needing a shower, but
driven by the relic of some youthful self-delusion that has never coalesced
into anything even as substantial as a dream.
This same husk of a man took off his wedding ring a few weeks ago, (my ring
finger had swollen and had become quite uncomfortable), only nobody cared enough
to even notice. He affects a preference for living alone but is reduced to tears
at the end of the Ricky-goes-to-Hollywood vehicle, Ghost Town, and
has to wait for the rest of the audience to leave before he can face the late
afternoon sunlight. (Not that this was all that was wrong with the movie, but,
as usual, the crucial chemistry between the main protagonists was completely
absent. I would’ve been a far better choice – for either
role).
I wonder if our space/time traveller would have guessed my chosen profession?
I doubt it – even people who have seen me play still feel compelled to
ask if that’s all I do.
Okay, so this isn’t really about anything other than myself and by way
of an effort to tease out some truth that might act as some sort of inspiration
to get on with it. Not only that, but the fact is that I can
deduce more about our phantom burger eater. Yep, I can tell you with some certainty
that he has at least one tattoo and that he’s probably pierced. And, in
relation to the wrapper being there in the first place, I can also tell you
unequivocably; it wouldn’t have happened in our day..