28 lipca 2005
The Worst Panhandler on Fourth Avenue
I was walking north on Fourth Avenue (but I was north of North on Fourth...), and a guy, pudgy white guy in his twenties, was walking the other direction. He was wearing a shirt, but it wasn't buttoned, so that pale, formless body of his was on display for all of us lucky pedestrians.
He said, "You got any money?"
I said, "No."
"Well, f*** you!"
I turned around since he had already walked past me. He said, "What are you staring at, faggot?"
Bear in mind, I had a bad week, and I had a pool cue.
"I wouldn't be staring at you."
"F*** you. I'll get you."
"Easy to say that when you are walking away."
He kept walking, shouting things at me the whole time. I have a feeling that he isn't just some down on his luck guy, probably some broke smoke head or speed freak.
Nothing more to write. Move along.
Do zobaczenia. Hasta la proxima.
He said, "You got any money?"
I said, "No."
"Well, f*** you!"
I turned around since he had already walked past me. He said, "What are you staring at, faggot?"
Bear in mind, I had a bad week, and I had a pool cue.
"I wouldn't be staring at you."
"F*** you. I'll get you."
"Easy to say that when you are walking away."
He kept walking, shouting things at me the whole time. I have a feeling that he isn't just some down on his luck guy, probably some broke smoke head or speed freak.
Nothing more to write. Move along.
Do zobaczenia. Hasta la proxima.
