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Today I was playing Wii Boxing with my nephew, and he was trying to knock out a computer opponent that looked exactly like Jesus. Quite perceptively, he told me that the reason he couldn't knock him out, and the reason why he kept getting back up, was because today is Easter. He's a smart kid.
I wrote another story, it's behind this link:
Jim the Bum
Jim the bum was having an exceptionally nice day. In the span of only four hours, he’d found three cigarettes which had only been a quarter of the way smoked, half a sandwich made exactly the way he liked it, and even enough change to buy himself a cup of coffee at the nearby Starbuck’s. He’d had better days, of course. Days from when he wasn’t a bum - any day from when he wasn’t a bum, really - were the days he remembered fondly, but even Jim knew that to look back on the better times is to turn a blind eye to the good times ahead.
Before losing all of his money to an alpaca farming scheme gone awry, Jim had been a car salesmen. The middle-aged man had no qualms about talking people out of their hard earned money, but as his own current predicament clearly evidenced, he also had no problem being talked out of his own. Having lost all of his money breeding alpacas, this was no longer a problem. Jim never had more money than he needed, and often didn’t even have that, scraping by on less than what he considered the bare minimum.
And so, that day, out of his constant need for money, it was with breath which smelled like a mixture of smoke, turkey, and black coffee that Jim did his daily begging. The bum felt particularly persuasive, the side effect of a satisfied nicotine habit and stomach full of turkey. He felt as though he could talk a nun into going to a death metal show with him, and if a nun were to come by, he would probably give it a shot. It wasn’t a date with a nun he was after, though. It was money.
He slept on a bench outside a grocery store, it being a prime place for catching people with change in their pockets or even just food on their person. Although Jim was homeless, he was not without his dignity, and the bum quickly learned that the richest hobo was the most socially engaging hobo. He brought a degree of civility to his begging, showing his target that the man they were looking at was not a stinky, unshaven, forgotten dredge of society, but rather a sociable and self-assured dredge of society.
After finishing his cup of coffee, he scribbled some numbers on a scrap of paper and started in on a man who looked about his age, maybe slightly younger, around thirty. The trickiest part of the business of begging for most is figuring out how to hook your intended benefactors, and this was the aspect of homelessness in which Jim had immediately excelled. He knew how to rope in a person, and this was exactly what he did as the man walked out of the store and past Jim’s bench.
“Jesus,” said Jim to the man, standing up and stopping him with a hand to his chest. “Would you take a look at that fine piece of ass over there?”
Taken aback, and with Jim’s right hand pressed firmly on his chest, the man stopped in his tracks. Jim took the opportunity to lower his hand and point it toward a young woman who was loading groceries into her car. She was good-looking, and if she wasn’t a model or an actress, she could have been.
“Excuse me?” said the man. “Look, I don’t have any change-”
“Did I ask for your change? I said, look at that woman. Watch her load those bags into the back of her car. The way she bends down to pick them up out of the cart. I bet you wouldn’t mind helping unload into her trunk, would you?”
The other man was noticeably uncomfortable. “Well, I suppose if she were to require my assistance, I would have no choice but to help her put her groceries away.”
“Uh-uh, guy, that’s not what I mean. What I mean is, wouldn’t you like to get to know a girl like that?”
The man looked at his watch impatiently, as though it would somehow free him from the situation he was in. He pondered just walking away, but he couldn’t find the nerve to just leave Jim standing there without at least listening to what he had to say. Jim used the resulting awkward silence to his advantage, peering at the man’s hand and taking mental notes.
“I see you don’t have a ring, there, buddy.”
“I’m not married, no,” replied the man.
“Damn shame. Handsome guy like yourself, you’d think the ladies would be crawling all over you.”
With that statement, things became a lot more uncomfortable, and the man, who was neither attractive nor covered in crawling ladies, suddenly began to wonder if the bum was gay. He didn’t have to wonder long.
“You ain’t a queer, are you?” Jim asked the man, continuing his questioning of the man’s personal business.
“No, I’m not gay, and I’m not really comfortable talking to you about my love life, either. Goodbye.” The man began to walk away.
“Hold on a minute. What if I told you that I could give you that woman’s phone number?” The man stopped. “Come on back here.”
The man walked back to Jim, stupidly caught up in his con. “How would you have that woman’s phone number?”
“She gave it to me. Told me to call her, said that she volunteers at the food bank and can get me some food. Who gives a shit? Point is, I’ve got a beautiful woman’s phone number and you’re single and straight.”
If he’d wanted to keep twenty dollars, the man should have walked away. The man was pathetic, though, and, being a pathetic man himself, Jim knew this, and Jim capitalized on this.
“I’ll give it to you for twenty bucks.”
“Twenty bucks?!”
“Can I please direct your attention to the woman again?” He pointed at the woman again, who was almost done putting away her groceries. “Like I said before. Twenty bucks.”
The man was obviously struggling with his inner demons. There was no guarantee that getting her number would help him, as he couldn’t just call her out of the blue and ask her out on a date. Then, as most pathetic men do when presented with the possibility of time spent with an attractive woman, he began to form a delusional plan in his head. He would call her up, say that he got her number from someone at the food bank, and ask her about volunteering. Then, from there, he would get to know her better, eventually asking her on a date and having his way with her. It was a perfect plan.
“Twenty bucks, huh?”
Jim began to smile. “Twenty bucks and she’s all yours.”
The man pulled out his wallet and handed Jim a crisp twenty dollar bill. Jim handed him the scrap of paper he’d written the numbers on earlier and shoved the twenty dollar bill into his pocket. The man walked off towards the parking lot, ogling the woman as she brought her cart back to the front of the store. Jim sat back down on the bench.
When the woman walked by Jim again, this time back toward the parking lot without her cart, he called out to her.
“Hey!” he yelled. “Thanks for the cash.”
The woman looked confused. “I’m sorry? I didn’t give you any money. I don’t give anything to beggers. If you need something, you should get a job and pay for it.”
Jim just smiled. “You’re right,” he said. “You’re so right.”
Gonna leave for Kauai tomorrow night, I'll be back for school on Thursday of next week.
I wrote another story, it's behind this link:
Jim the Bum
Jim the bum was having an exceptionally nice day. In the span of only four hours, he’d found three cigarettes which had only been a quarter of the way smoked, half a sandwich made exactly the way he liked it, and even enough change to buy himself a cup of coffee at the nearby Starbuck’s. He’d had better days, of course. Days from when he wasn’t a bum - any day from when he wasn’t a bum, really - were the days he remembered fondly, but even Jim knew that to look back on the better times is to turn a blind eye to the good times ahead.
Before losing all of his money to an alpaca farming scheme gone awry, Jim had been a car salesmen. The middle-aged man had no qualms about talking people out of their hard earned money, but as his own current predicament clearly evidenced, he also had no problem being talked out of his own. Having lost all of his money breeding alpacas, this was no longer a problem. Jim never had more money than he needed, and often didn’t even have that, scraping by on less than what he considered the bare minimum.
And so, that day, out of his constant need for money, it was with breath which smelled like a mixture of smoke, turkey, and black coffee that Jim did his daily begging. The bum felt particularly persuasive, the side effect of a satisfied nicotine habit and stomach full of turkey. He felt as though he could talk a nun into going to a death metal show with him, and if a nun were to come by, he would probably give it a shot. It wasn’t a date with a nun he was after, though. It was money.
He slept on a bench outside a grocery store, it being a prime place for catching people with change in their pockets or even just food on their person. Although Jim was homeless, he was not without his dignity, and the bum quickly learned that the richest hobo was the most socially engaging hobo. He brought a degree of civility to his begging, showing his target that the man they were looking at was not a stinky, unshaven, forgotten dredge of society, but rather a sociable and self-assured dredge of society.
After finishing his cup of coffee, he scribbled some numbers on a scrap of paper and started in on a man who looked about his age, maybe slightly younger, around thirty. The trickiest part of the business of begging for most is figuring out how to hook your intended benefactors, and this was the aspect of homelessness in which Jim had immediately excelled. He knew how to rope in a person, and this was exactly what he did as the man walked out of the store and past Jim’s bench.
“Jesus,” said Jim to the man, standing up and stopping him with a hand to his chest. “Would you take a look at that fine piece of ass over there?”
Taken aback, and with Jim’s right hand pressed firmly on his chest, the man stopped in his tracks. Jim took the opportunity to lower his hand and point it toward a young woman who was loading groceries into her car. She was good-looking, and if she wasn’t a model or an actress, she could have been.
“Excuse me?” said the man. “Look, I don’t have any change-”
“Did I ask for your change? I said, look at that woman. Watch her load those bags into the back of her car. The way she bends down to pick them up out of the cart. I bet you wouldn’t mind helping unload into her trunk, would you?”
The other man was noticeably uncomfortable. “Well, I suppose if she were to require my assistance, I would have no choice but to help her put her groceries away.”
“Uh-uh, guy, that’s not what I mean. What I mean is, wouldn’t you like to get to know a girl like that?”
The man looked at his watch impatiently, as though it would somehow free him from the situation he was in. He pondered just walking away, but he couldn’t find the nerve to just leave Jim standing there without at least listening to what he had to say. Jim used the resulting awkward silence to his advantage, peering at the man’s hand and taking mental notes.
“I see you don’t have a ring, there, buddy.”
“I’m not married, no,” replied the man.
“Damn shame. Handsome guy like yourself, you’d think the ladies would be crawling all over you.”
With that statement, things became a lot more uncomfortable, and the man, who was neither attractive nor covered in crawling ladies, suddenly began to wonder if the bum was gay. He didn’t have to wonder long.
“You ain’t a queer, are you?” Jim asked the man, continuing his questioning of the man’s personal business.
“No, I’m not gay, and I’m not really comfortable talking to you about my love life, either. Goodbye.” The man began to walk away.
“Hold on a minute. What if I told you that I could give you that woman’s phone number?” The man stopped. “Come on back here.”
The man walked back to Jim, stupidly caught up in his con. “How would you have that woman’s phone number?”
“She gave it to me. Told me to call her, said that she volunteers at the food bank and can get me some food. Who gives a shit? Point is, I’ve got a beautiful woman’s phone number and you’re single and straight.”
If he’d wanted to keep twenty dollars, the man should have walked away. The man was pathetic, though, and, being a pathetic man himself, Jim knew this, and Jim capitalized on this.
“I’ll give it to you for twenty bucks.”
“Twenty bucks?!”
“Can I please direct your attention to the woman again?” He pointed at the woman again, who was almost done putting away her groceries. “Like I said before. Twenty bucks.”
The man was obviously struggling with his inner demons. There was no guarantee that getting her number would help him, as he couldn’t just call her out of the blue and ask her out on a date. Then, as most pathetic men do when presented with the possibility of time spent with an attractive woman, he began to form a delusional plan in his head. He would call her up, say that he got her number from someone at the food bank, and ask her about volunteering. Then, from there, he would get to know her better, eventually asking her on a date and having his way with her. It was a perfect plan.
“Twenty bucks, huh?”
Jim began to smile. “Twenty bucks and she’s all yours.”
The man pulled out his wallet and handed Jim a crisp twenty dollar bill. Jim handed him the scrap of paper he’d written the numbers on earlier and shoved the twenty dollar bill into his pocket. The man walked off towards the parking lot, ogling the woman as she brought her cart back to the front of the store. Jim sat back down on the bench.
When the woman walked by Jim again, this time back toward the parking lot without her cart, he called out to her.
“Hey!” he yelled. “Thanks for the cash.”
The woman looked confused. “I’m sorry? I didn’t give you any money. I don’t give anything to beggers. If you need something, you should get a job and pay for it.”
Jim just smiled. “You’re right,” he said. “You’re so right.”
Gonna leave for Kauai tomorrow night, I'll be back for school on Thursday of next week.