Joey couldn’t take his eyes off the guy’s leg. Why did that guy have to constantly shake his leg? Why do people do that? Nervous energy? Does it sooth them, like playing with a spiky ball might sooth a kid with a mental disorder? It was driving Joey crazy. He couldn’t say anything because then he’d sound like an asshole. He held his hand over the right side of his face, blocking his view of the leg. But it was awkward to keep his hand there. He’d have to leave and find another table to sit at.
But that was the right table for him to write songs. The wood was a little lighter in color than the other tables at the café. He had to stay there. He switched hands covering his face so he could pick up his pen with his right hand. That was even worse, since now he had to pretend that he was just naturally leaning on his left hand which went up over his forehead and curved down to block his right eye. He glanced back at the leg, but it was still shaking, even faster now. Maybe the guy has restless leg syndrome, Joey thought. Maybe he could incorporate that into a song. He started writing:
Your legs shakin’ all the time
You’re like a spastic mime.
I can’t enjoy my cup o’ joe
Wish your leg would get up and go
It needed a chorus. Joey wrote:
Oh oh Restless Leg Syndrome!
Oh no Restless Leg Syndrome!
No no Restless Leg Syndrome!
Gotta go! Restless Leg Syndrome!
The leg was still there. It was vibrating more than shaking, which seemed even worse for some reason. Joey kept writing:
Your restless leg driving me insane
Your restless leg is killing my brain
Your so proud of your RLS
Your restless leg is the best!
Joey peered out from between his fingers. The leg was gone! So was the dude. He breathed a sigh of relief and got up to order another cup of coffee.
