One sees some strange things when working retail.

An elderly man came in, smelling strongly of fried chicken and mumbling to himself while pulling a folded slip of paper from his wallet. I gathered that he wanted some copies made, but then he started to say “onion skin” to me repeatedly, how he needed the copies on onion skin for his body, onion skin.

Onion skin!

All I could assume was that “onion skin” was a thin sort of paper, kind of like vellum or something. I told the man that we didn’t have that here, and that the Kinko’s across the way might be a better bet. He thanked me and started talking about how he needed copies on onion skin for his body. It had to do with god, you see! In the sky!

That was when he actually started talking about fried chicken and wandered away.