Everywhere I go someone asks me for money, the reason I don’t carry it, because by the end of the day, my pocket’s empty.
Now there are certain instances when giving is appropriate like now, at Christmas, since the Salvation Army Santas have been out, freezing their beards off since Thanksgiving.
But how often are you expected to give?
I pass a guy four times a day. He howls on the corner by the subway near where I live, and I mean howl.
He doesn’t sweetly ring his bell or even smile. He screams…
HOW WOULD YOU FEEL TO BE HOMELESS AND HUNGRY WRAPPED IN NEWSPAPER AND PAPER BAGS?
He must have a degree in guilt because when I see him, my demeanor dips like a naughty beagle.
Well yesterday, Old Saint Dick, I mean Nick, went a little too far. I was en route to the post office inquiring about a package seemingly lost at sea, a major bummer for a mailer like me, when I hear, “Here she comes, the girl with all the fancy footwear.”
At first I looked around to see who he was referring to turning into De Niro in Taxi Driver. “You talkin to me…are you talkin to me?” When he said, how would you like it if you didn’t have shoes, I went off like a faulty Xmas bulb.
“Listen you big bully in a costume.
SHUT THE HELL UP!
I’ve really had it with you, and if you say one more thing to me, EVER…you’ll be sorry. Your Santa days will be over.”
Yes I did, I told off Santa.
A guy in droopy jeans and an earring bigger than his ear said,”Mama, I’ve been meanin to do that for a week. He deserves a good pop in his head.”
“Yes he does, that Santa…yes he does.”