VANCOUVER — Local barista Rob McNair smashed thirty-eight fellow transit riders with his backpack earlier today while acting on unconscious instincts from his previous incarnation as a soldier in the Crusades who operated a battering ram.
“I don’t understand why,” McNair said, “but it feels so good to strap this thing on, get on the bus and turn from side to side as often as possible.”
“You don’t wanna do it constantly. Take pauses. Let people think you’re done. They’ll settle into their positions, play solitaire on their phones, sip their coffee and stare out the window. That’s when you do a full three-sixty.”
Responding to subtle inherited memories of the sieges of Silves, Tomar and Acre as part of the Third Crusade, McNair starts each day by filling his backpack with books, cinder blocks and bags of kitty litter to provide ballast for his daily acts of walloping.
Highlights from the past week include knocking the wind out of a child, whacking the glasses off a tall woman’s face, and causing an octogenarian to fall into a teenager’s lap.
Other passengers have communicated their frustration with McNair by hoping he stops, or, in extreme cases, giving him the stink-eye when he isn’t looking.
Although McNair’s buried memories primarily express themselves through dorsal clobberings, he also protects himself from germs by drinking beer instead of water, keeping his mouth sanitary by brushing his teeth once a year with a twig, and paying his taxes with a sack of rabbits.
At press time, McNair’s angry fellow transit riders have begun to access their own past life memories and are attempting to remove him from the bus by accusing him of witchcraft.
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