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by hymn42
Rated: E · Fiction · Comedy · #1037863
A satirical look at life through the eyes of a fictional character.
         So there I was on a Wednesday morning walking back to the days designated job site sippin on a coffee and wolfin’ down an english muffin breakfast sandwich.
         “Aight, brah,” I commented as I dropped change into the cup of a man standing on the corner.
         It was several minutes later I found myself cornered by someone who had apparently mistook this random act of kindness for the weakness it’s often confused with. A pleasant fellow, whom I was quite sure could pull more honies than I ever could, launched into a sob-story I found myself competing with for some reason. I guess I just wanted to beat him at something just to redeem myself for all my shortcomings, which may have been obvious to even him.
         He began it all with a modest request for spare change, just to get things started right off the bat. No time wasted! After all, it was snowing.
         “I ain’t helping YOU til the good Lord helps ME!” I countered, expecting a laugh from him almost, something that would’ve put him off-balance- a considerable disadvantage when trying to appear pathetic. His eyes widened at the surprise of me giving him some competition unexpectedly. I knew I had him then. It was all downhill from here and I felt it.
         “I just lost a ride I only had liability coverage on after gettin booted outta the Air Force for bein a smart-ass!”
         My mind was racing as I listened to my own inspired rant while watching for his reactions at the same time. Could I have come out ahead? And if so, enough to where I could then ask him for a tip? After all, the winner receives the tip, right? I couldn’t tell!
         “Yeah, man I feel bad about your situation, dog, but if I could just get forty-five cents to get on this train, man, I could get outta this cold!” he retorted, which confused me. I thought I’d won fair and square! Was he even keeping score? What kind of town was this anyway? My eyebrows scrunched as I made my next move.
         “God let that fucked up shit happen to me, man, so, don’t take it personal, but I ain’t helping none of His people til He makes it up to me! And that’s that, dude. Now if you wanna try to take it from me then I guess we just gon be scrappin’.”
         His thin dry lips curled into a smile as he responded in a lower tone.
         “Well, I am bigger and stronger than you! Why not?”
         I was in shock! This little competition had turned into a wrestling match! People would pay lots of money to witness that! What a brilliant idea! My whole disposition began to change, which must’ve been expressed through my body language. I could not be concerned about this though.
         “You mean, me fight you for what’s already mine?” I asked, just to make sure he understood my position.
         “Yeah. Fuck it. I can win THAT shit easy.”
         “Could you… wait. I just thought of something that could make us both rich. Tell you what. You go ahead and try that shit, but I want this whole thing DOCUMENTED, and I got rights to the soundtrack!”
         “Huh?” he responds.
         “Dude, the only thing is, you gotta be serious! Or else it ain’t gon work!”
         “Man, I’m just tryin to get on the train.”
         “Aw, c’mon, man. I’m tryin to talk business wit you!”
         “That’s cool, man, yeah and I appreciate it but I’m cold as fuck out here man.”
         “Dude. You’re missing the point.”
         “We could get paid!”
         “Man, you ain’t listenin to a word I’m sayin!”

         Later that afternoon I came across an artist on the street corner displaying a solo piece done in pastels of contrasting colors and great 'diagonals' which I found quite interesting. I passed him up for a gentleman holding up a depiction of a stick figure in flight as in ‘superhero’, or whatever. He appeared to be smoking what was left of a blunt.
         “Whadda ya call that?” I ask, pokin’ fun at his ‘hard work’. He appeared to be working a little harder on that herb!
         “Man, people appreciate great art but not what it takes for someone to do it. You’re just like the rest of ‘em. Beat it. Next?”
© Copyright 2005 hymn42 (wesleycraig at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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