Going Bananas

"You know what I like to do?" I asked as I watched him prepare his breakfast of champions.
"Hm?" he replied without interest.
"I like to slit its throat and/or behead it, then pull back and scalp the rest of it." It's true. The knife makes a resonating 'shling!' noise of triumph.
"Then I skin it alive," he added.
I laughed, stunned by his witty participation. "Yeah you do!"
He always does. Takes him 10 minutes just to, well, skin a banana. There's no better way to describe what he does. I think it's a waste of time. He's a bit crazy.

Why?

Was it my driving? Was it that I looked like I just got out of bed? Was it me? Or is he as crazy as he looked?

I was driving my school bus. It's love school bus number nine. Nothing but high rollin good times and good feelings, until Monday morning. Okay, it's not that dramastic. This guy's head was covered in hair pointing every direction. It reflected the directionless look on his face. He was crossing the road intersecting the one I was cruising down seeming to wish he hadn't been walking around town all night. He neared the corner of the crosswalks and cut toward my road. I'm not sure why I was looking at him (maybe to make sure he didn't jump out in front of me), but he was looking back. His frown deepened in suspicion and he raised his right arm, bent his elbow down and stuck out his thumb. What? the crap. He just gave me a thumbs down?