Eons ago in an America light-years away, my wife and I stopped at the only eatery available in a town that hit the bull's-eye in the middle of nowhere. As we ordered coffee and toast, an old man shuffling past suddenly stopped and spoke to my wife. She may have been the first Oriental he had ever seen.
"I am not," the man said, "the village idiot." He shoved his stubbled face close and my wife flinched.
"Nor am I the village drunk." And now the man pressed her at the elbows and made her stand.