"No more Barney... No more Barney..."

A young man, slightly aged by insanity was sitting on a bus bench, wearing, not clothes, but pages. Pages of a book were scattered all about him, each one bore a different picture of Barney, the big purple dinosaur, the young man's worst nightmare. In his hands rest the book that caused him to lose his mind, the book that grew slightly larger each time he ripped out a page. The book was now at least an inch bigger than three hours previous, where you'd seen the same sight only less pages. The cops wouldn't take any more inquiries on the man as they had "more important things" to handle.

Children were a bit amused by the man, they'd walk by countless times, stifling their giggles until they were out of earshot. Older folk would shake their heads mumbling "People these days..." or "...anything to get attention." The middle agers weren't sure whether to smile or scoff, so they readjusted their scarves or gave a meak cough and began to stare at the ground. And then there were the tourists who'd snap a picture or two, the braver ones getting in the picture with him. I just sipped my coffee and watched, wondering if I should offer my coat but deciding against it due to his lack of underwear.

For two weeks more, I had seen the man, always in the same position, shivering, muttering "No more Barney" repeatedly, tearing page after page out of the cloth covered book. Each day, my curiousity grew even more until one day I could no longer take it. My heart beating ten times faster than at its regular pace, I walked across the street to the bus bench. The man's eyes grew wild as I sat down, as I sifted through the pages he began to smile, and by the time I'd taken the book from him, he had an ear-to-ear grin.

I'm not sure what happened to that man, or my clothes for that matter. I'm not sure why I'm sitting on this bus bench naked, waiting, not for a bus, but for an ending to this book. All that I'm sure of, is that this book defies existence, and I'm getting really cold.