Crazy in the elevator

There was a man already in the elevator when I left work today. Right after I stepped in, he laughed. Not just chuckled, but literally CACKLING, EVIL, CRAZY laughed. There's no other way to describe it.

He stopped himself abruptly, ahem-ed, and said, "Sorry." To which I managed a tight smile in reply. Now to the thoughts racing through my head. Is he on a cell phone? No. Maybe he was laughing before I stepped on? No. Maybe he's psychotic. Maybe he'll rip off his own arm, name it Bertha, and then eat it in this elevator? Yes, MAYBE.

I peeked sideways at him. He was smiling to himself. The elevator dinged, having reached the garage. I got the hell out of there.