Pizza Hat...

So I saw this guy at Godfather's eating with his family. He was a larger man probably not much older than I, but what caught my eye was his stocking cap; what struck me was the way it seemed to teeter on his head. I thought his physical presence would be a fun exercise in description.

Fiction starts here:

     John Brummly was a conisseur of pizza, among other things. A single topping pizza was a mere appetizer in his mind. There had to be stuff on stuff, and if you could get stuff in stuff that was even better.
     Standing over six foot five, John was able to distribute some of his healthy appetite. Although he felt he looked ok, really, he looked like a caucasian pear. The sweaters he wore looked as though he had pulled them from under a Christmas tree. There were no pleats in his pants, and suspenders were preferred over belts (not that he could use one, mind you).
     But nothing made him look more odd than when he wore a stocking cap. You see, when he entered a building he would pull the cap up so it would gently lay upon his head.
As he would move about, you watched him, waiting to catch the cap when it fell from his head. However, he didn't move fast enough to make the cap fall from his head. He could have carried a book on his head; his movements were deliberate and smooth, no quick or jerky motions. Yet you still can not take your eyes off his cap.
     It seemed as though a slight breeze should be able to take it off his head. But no; it was like two pieces of velcro sticking to each other. Some people looked at his cap and wanted to snatch it off his head; others just simply couldn't look at it at all.
     Due to his pear nature, the cap drew attention to his ill proportioned head. The loftier the placement of the hat, the smaller his head appeared and his midsection more pronounced.
Greg Jones, former circus trainer, once summed it up best when he said: "It looks like a ball on the tip of a seal's nose; you just wait to see how long he can balance it. It just goes on and on... It's exhausting."

End fiction