"Did you never study atomics when you were a lad?"
"No," I answered.
"That is a very serious defalcation," he said, "but all the same I will tell you the size of it. Everything is composed of small particles of itself and they are flying around . . . . These diminutive gentlemen are called atoms. Do you follow me intelligently?"
. . .
"The gross and net result of it is that people who spent most of their natural lives riding iron bicycles over the rocky roadsteads of this parish get their personalities mixed up with the personalities of their bicycle as a result of the interchanging of the atoms of each of them and you would be surprised at the number of people in these parts who are half people and half bicycles."
I let go a gasp of astonishment that made a sound in the air like a bad puncture.
. . .
"Are you certain about the humanity of the bicycle?" I inquired of him. "Is the Atomic Theory as dangerous as you say?"
"It is between twice and three times as dangerous as it might be," he replied gloomily. "Early in the morning I often think it is four times . . . When a man lets things go so far that he is half or more than half a bicycle, you will not see so much because he spends a lot of his time leaning with one elbow on walls or standing propped by one foot on kerbstones. . . "
-- from The Third Policeman by Flann O'Brien