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muckefuckI crossed the street with a chocolate chunk cookie in my hand and a rockin' 80s ballad in my head. On the other corner, I saw a young woman standing outside the pharmacy casting her glance around and looking somewhat lost. It's not uncommon to see panhandlers there, but she had two shopping bags with her. As I got closer, her glance seem to settle on me, but I didn't hear her say anything. Then, after I'd passed, I heard a faint, squeaky, "Can you help me?"
I stopped, thinking maybe she needed directions. "Are you going to the corner?" she asked. By now, I was convinced she was mentally disabled. She indicated her bag and said, "It's too heavy for me." After I hefted it and began walking, I asked, "Is someone going to pick you up at the corner?" "No, I live near there."
It turned out, as she explained on the way, she just had a viral infection, which explained the lack of voice and generally out-of-it-ness. She also clarified that she lived around the corner a little way. No big deal, I thought--
Until I saw him.
The CUTEST BEAR suddenly stepped out of a café and turned up the street ahead of me. A gray-haired daddy in well-fitting jeans and a Boston fire department t-shirt. I could just imagine his perky nipples filling it out in front. I had to imagine them, of course, since there was no way I was going to get any closer. He was strolling leisurely, but I was weighed down with twenty pounds of fucking flavoured water. On top of that, I was trying not to leave Ms Viral Infection too far behind, but the bitch was slow. I mean, sick and debilitated, I get that, but I was walking at a child's pace and she couldn't keep up. All the while, I strained to drink up as much of the daddy bear's deliciousness as possible before I had to turn off the main way.
Doing a good deed unpleasantly is worse than not doing it at all, so I did my best to wear a masque of polite contentment as she tried to make small talk at the corner. At least when she thanked me again, I was able to squawk out, "No trouble at all, it was on my way" convincingly enough. I prayed to god that the only reason she'd tapped me out of all the passers-by is because I looked passably strong, not because she was in any way attracted to me. Awkward! The thought of having to take the damn box up to her apartment door filled me with dread.
Her mother must've told her not to trust strangers, even helpful ones, because she stopped me outside the front door to the apartment complex, saying "That's good enough." For form's sake, I asked again if she needed help getting it up the elevator, and she said no. There was no point in rushing off anyway; Mr Cutie Bear was long gone.
I stopped, thinking maybe she needed directions. "Are you going to the corner?" she asked. By now, I was convinced she was mentally disabled. She indicated her bag and said, "It's too heavy for me." After I hefted it and began walking, I asked, "Is someone going to pick you up at the corner?" "No, I live near there."
It turned out, as she explained on the way, she just had a viral infection, which explained the lack of voice and generally out-of-it-ness. She also clarified that she lived around the corner a little way. No big deal, I thought--
Until I saw him.
The CUTEST BEAR suddenly stepped out of a café and turned up the street ahead of me. A gray-haired daddy in well-fitting jeans and a Boston fire department t-shirt. I could just imagine his perky nipples filling it out in front. I had to imagine them, of course, since there was no way I was going to get any closer. He was strolling leisurely, but I was weighed down with twenty pounds of fucking flavoured water. On top of that, I was trying not to leave Ms Viral Infection too far behind, but the bitch was slow. I mean, sick and debilitated, I get that, but I was walking at a child's pace and she couldn't keep up. All the while, I strained to drink up as much of the daddy bear's deliciousness as possible before I had to turn off the main way.
Doing a good deed unpleasantly is worse than not doing it at all, so I did my best to wear a masque of polite contentment as she tried to make small talk at the corner. At least when she thanked me again, I was able to squawk out, "No trouble at all, it was on my way" convincingly enough. I prayed to god that the only reason she'd tapped me out of all the passers-by is because I looked passably strong, not because she was in any way attracted to me. Awkward! The thought of having to take the damn box up to her apartment door filled me with dread.
Her mother must've told her not to trust strangers, even helpful ones, because she stopped me outside the front door to the apartment complex, saying "That's good enough." For form's sake, I asked again if she needed help getting it up the elevator, and she said no. There was no point in rushing off anyway; Mr Cutie Bear was long gone.
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