Jason spotted him from the bottom of the hill. Well, the
bottom of the hill from where he had started.
Is that the same fucking guy? Yup. Same fucking guy. Same
fucking corner. Same pleading look on his face.
And no recognition of Jason.
"Hey man, you got a dollar or two for bus fare? My car
broke down and I gotta get my moms to the hospital."
"You said that to me last time, Man," Jason said.
"Sorry Man, I ain't got no job."
"Neither do I, Man."
Well, not full-time. And not like he couldn't get one if he really needed it. Unlike this poor guy.
Well, not full-time. And not like he couldn't get one if he really needed it. Unlike this poor guy.
Still, Jason wasn’t going to give him another ten bucks,
regardless of what kind of asshole he felt like. He stormed off towards home, the dog barking in time with Jason's rising blood pressure, neuroses, and fear.
He let him bark; he did just tell off a homeless guy losing another battle to the streets.
Jason walked his ridiculously well-fed dog back to a warm
house to eat a lovingly cooked dinner.
And he knew: he was the asshole, again.
Guilty.
But at least he wasn’t out another ten bucks.
