Inside Jack’s Mind

Sometimes I wonder if I’m the only one living in this place with a working brain. I sit in the dining room, sipping this sorry excuse for coffee, and watch the chaos unfold like a bad sitcom. Maude’s scowling at her plate like her meatloaf insulted her ancestors, Ron’s talking to nobody in particular about how aluminum foil might block government mind control, and Oscar’s shuffling past tables like a turtle on a mission to nowhere.

“Hi buddy!”

Oh no. The Shadow strikes again. Where does this guy even come from? One second I’m in my own world, and the next he’s hovering beside me like he just teleported in from another dimension. I mumble a half-hearted “Hey,” and pretend to sip my cold coffee just to avoid eye contact. I know if I give him an opening, I’ll get stuck in some painfully awkward conversation about who-knows-what.

But then there’s Vince. The guy could out-talk a telemarketer on commission. If words were cash, he’d be richer than Bezos. He never just talks — he rattles off thoughts like he’s reading his own private dictionary out loud. “You know, Jack, I was just thinking about how pigeons probably have this secret language, you know, like Morse code but with wing flaps…” Oh boy, here we go.

I smile and nod, but my mind’s busy writing its own dialogue. “Yes, Vince, and I’m sure those pigeons are also plotting world domination. Be sure to wear your aluminum foil hat.”

Then there’s Big Don, the gentle giant. A guy who’d give you his last cookie and a smile to go with it. He lumbers around like a friendly bear, always grinning, always helpful. If there’s one guy who doesn’t make my patience boil over, it’s him. Even Hank, with his uncensored wisecracks, feels like a breath of fresh air compared to the endless chatter of Vince or the lurking presence of The Shadow.

But if we’re talking about people with zero self-awareness, Big Barbara takes the crown. She’s so heavy, she probably will never get out of her wheelchair. Yet there she sits, parked right in front of the coffee vending machine, not even pretending