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A long, stiff radish sits in the bin

White in color

Mild flavor

No one knows what it is

Passersby wonder

A woman wants it in her mouth

A psycho wonders if it can be sharpened into a weapon

To help him escape the prison that is his life

He strolls into the restroom of the grocery store

The counter is splattered with water

There’s a foul human smell

The mirror is dirty

His reflection is broken by the smudges and stains

He holds the daikon up as if it were a knife

He grins like the Joker

Someone comes in

And immediately steps out

The psycho shoves the daikon down his pants

He washes his hands, checks his two-day old teeth

He pulls a toothbrush and small tube of toothpaste from a pocket in his pants

He brushes his teeth, spits, rinses by cupping water in his hands and bringing it to his mouth

He returns the toothbrush and toothpaste back to their proper place

The daikon in his pants makes a sexual bulge

He smiles at that, walks out

The store is abuzz with chaos

People crowded, talking, noise

He aches to push bodies out of the way

It’s like swimming in flesh

Promises are fulfilled

Promises are broken

The meat department is full of butchered carcasses

Chunks of animal meat neatly packaged in plastic polluters

The people there are selecting pieces of what once had life

The psycho stands and watches

He thinks it’s all so weird

He wants to scream:

“Think about what you are doing!”

No one listens

They just go on doing the same thing over and over and over again

His daikon penis shifts in angst

It’s time to go, to get out, to leave this place

He buys a frozen cheese pizza

Walks to his car

He removes the daikon from his pants

Takes a bite and doesn’t like it

Tries to pass it off to a woman strolling by

“Ew,” she says. Then she runs away and calls the police

The psycho gets arrested

He sits in a jail cell now waiting for judgment

And all he can do is think and think and think

Wondering why he is always the villain

When lesser men blow up the world