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"I need a fucking doctor."
He tilts his head, bracing his back and pushing his shoulders against the ground until the pain in his neck is too much.
The tumbleweed doesn't respond.
Still no relief…
"I think," he amends, "maybe."
He presses, relents.
"It's just, like, I'm falling apart, or something?"
It's probably friends with all the other tumbleweeds. They all love him. Maybe.
"I don't know how I'm supposed to fix it. Me, I mean."
Bone against bone, his neck grinds and pops violently. He throws up, cracking his neck the other way again.
"It all just kinda hurts."