Alert and Oriented x3

 I stepped out of my front door and looked down the street. There was a man in the middle of the road, rolling on the ground and shouting. Because his feet were moving slower than his upper body, with each roll he curved in a short arc. While I watched he rolled enough to make a complete loop in the street. 

A truck drove past him. 

As I walked down there, there was a man sitting in a chair across from the club watching him. 

"What's up with this guy," I asked him.

"I don't know," he replied. "I saw him the same time you did."

By the time I reached him, he had stopped rolling and was unconscious but breathing.

His hand was bloody.

I looked at the guy in the chair. 

"Do you have a phone?" No.

I went back to the house to get my phone, some paper towels, and a bottle of water.

By the time I got back, one of the homeless guys was there, along with man in chair.

They were getting the now conscious but agitated man up on his feet and out of the street. We sat him down on the curb, while he held a rag to the back of his head. He had a visible cut higher up on his head.

The last thing he remembered was leaving his house, he said. The next thing was us dragging him to the curb. 

The police showed up, followed by the ambulance. A brief questioning by the cops produced no insights. The paramedics solicitously looked at his injuries, loaded him up and drove away.

I asked the homeless guy if he knew what happened. By the cut on his head, it looked like someone had hit him. Yeah, but he's still got all his stuff, he said. True.

Later that day I drove past the corner and the same guy-in-chair was there. 

"Did anyone ever figure out what happened to that guy," I asked him.

"No, but I saw him a little while ago, he's fine now."