Mr Baseball: "Dad...the chair...explain...my foot...what..expect?"
Mr Baseball: "I'm just...the shelf...I'm needing...the escalator..."
Me: "Son, You haven't made a clear sentence."
Mr. Baseball: "That's because I don't have any clear sentence(sic)"
All the time, he was rubbing the side of his head with the palm of his right hand and giving me a half smile as if he were about to laugh at a joke he hadn't yet told me. I asked him if he needed something and he managed a "No," before walking back into his room and going back to sleep.