So I was wondering the streets when an alley way caught my
eye. It looked shady and it was indeed dubiously dark.
"She ain't much, but she's something."
The voice startled me beyond... well... beyond that level of
startledness that is the usual. No really. I almost "fell off my
dinosaur" as they say. One might even go so far as to say that I almost shit my breeches (although I had only just relieved myself at a nearby
restaurant moments ago).
After recovering from that critical hit, I confronted the
source of the voice.
It appeared to be an elderly man. Or perhaps it was a
middle-aged man who had fought a long losing battle with drugs. Either way I was
unsure of this man and I was unsure of whom he was referring to.
I decided to humour the scraggly pauper.
"Who are you talking about?" I asked carefully.
"The 'ole two fourteen and a half!" He replied with
a smile. The man pointed down the alley way as he spoke. Three fingers held a half eaten sandwich while the index provided direction. I found the sandwich particularly
intriguing. It moved something within me for reasons I was unsure of at the
time. "She ain't much, but she's something." he repeated.
After a short moment I realized I was staring at his
sandwich and quickly met his eyes so as not to be rude. By this time the pauper's
smile had faded. He was staring absently down the alley way.
"You want
it?" The man asked while offering the food with an out-stretched hand. He
was still staring down the alley way...
"No thank you." I responded, trying to sound
polite.
The man looked down at the sandwich in his hand. His initial expression was blank, but it slowly grew into disgust.
"Fucker ordered extra olives! Fuckin' shit makes me
gag!" The seemingly crazy old man dropped the sandwich with what appeared
to be malicious intent and started shambling down the alley way.
I stood perplexed for a moment. As I was staring into space
trying to make sense of what had just happened I realized two things simultaneously.
One; the building to the left of the alley way was number 214, the right building being number
215 and two; the fucker who had ordered extra olives on his sandwich was me. I
had thrown the sandwich in the garbage simply because I was full. The scraggly man
must have scooped it out while I was taking a shit. It didn't occur to me that
it was my sandwich because I hadn't actually had to request extra olives for
some time as it were. I happened to be a "regular" at the establishment. Also, I
don't generally throw out my sandwiches much less find it in the hands of a
homeless man shortly afterwards. Jesus-fucking-H!
Forgive me lord... The hands on the clock of destiny must be in full swing
today I thought to myself. But what is all of this supposed to mean!??! I had always been a firm believer of fate. I maintain that everything happens for a
reason and I try to make a habit of figuring out what that reason is.
I eyed the defiled sandwich that lay on the sidewalk. It sat
motionless... and uncanny. "That's it," I decided. I stomped the
sandwich with a final, devastating blow
of my heel as I set off down the alley way in search of the old man. Whatever
all of this meant, I was unaware. But I had a feeling there was a valuable
lesson to be learned from all of this and that the scraggly pauper was going to
teach it to me.
I kicked the dirt off my shoes before entering the alley
way... the home of a homeless man... 214 and a half.
TO BE CONTINUED...
-Josh
