Pan-Handled

Pan-Handled

Homeless guy? Would you at least put some energy into your begging? if you want my dollar you should put aside your newspaper and coffee and stop treating me like an underling who's placing the morning mail on your desk. Pay attention to me as I humbly take pity on you. Let my good graces wash over you like a wave and cleanse you of any ill feelings you may have for one so beneficent as me. Do you treat all your benefactors this way? Or is it just me?

Oh, boy. Here comes Mr. Rockefeller and his dollar bill. I tell you, if I had an actual leg to stand on, I'd put a foot or two right up his butt. Every morning he hands me a buck then stares at me until I'm cringing like a wall-flower at a Vegas whorehouse. Perhaps he'd like me to send out thank you notes. Or maybe he'd like me to massage his testicles in appreciation. That is, when I'm not too busy squirreling away his dollar in my Swiss account. I'll have to call my accountant for advice.

I do believe this street bum is taken a tone with me. Only he’s doing it with his eyes. Yes. He is definitely being insolent. I’ve a good mind to reach into that cup and take my dollar back. Chances are he’s got a huge network of family and friends, and has them spread out all over town picking the pockets of hard working people like me. He’s probably got a townhouse on the upper east-side and throws lavish parties for all his crack-head friends. Why am I so good to these people?

I ought to throw my piss cup in his face. That would give him something to think about. Only I couldn’t take another night in jail. And the shelters aren’t much better. At least in the streets I can breathe free. They’re not charging for that yet. They want you to fight their fucking wars, then they kick you to the curb when the dust settles. Job well done, son. See ya! I don’t know why I get so upset with this clown. I just wish he’d find another way to get to his job. I don’t need his money that bad.

I think I’ll start taking another route to work. I don’t need him making me feel bad about trying to do good. I’ll just toss an extra buck into the poor box at my church around the corner.

I think I need to find myself a new location. But having no legs gets me nowhere fast. Gonna be a long day. It sure was a lot easier moving around before someone stole my wheelchair. Maybe  I’ll just plant myself at the church around the corner. Perhaps I can get one of those good church people to help me out a little bit. Praise Jesus, have mercy on my soul, and all that jazz. Ah, damn it. I got to take a crap. Now where on earth did I put those plastic bags?