Rekiwi's Blog

I am bad.

Like, really BAD.

Well, at the very least, I'm not a good person.

I have it on good authority from the gentleman who approached me in the parking lot of the closest Home Depot with a sob story of not doing drugs, four days in the parking lot looking for work, homelessness, and help needed until his settlement comes in.

See, according to this guy, I looked like a good person.

It wasn't enough that I was wrestling 6-foot of ironwork into the ass-end of my Accord with five minutes left to zip home, collect the family, and head off to the grand opening of our newly rebuilt library branch.

I dealt the man yet another in a long string of crushing disappointments.

I was on the verge of suggesting various social agencies or charity organizations as he responded to my initial rebuff: "Wow... I guess you're not a good person."

I wish I could say that I had the presence of mind to mock him for his constructive attitude or admit that, yes, I'm a giant asshole because I don't whip out the cash for every stranger with a sad tale.

Instead, my mouth opened and out poured a wacky stream-of-consciousness tirade as he walked away.

When he turned on me, I had a sudden desire for a bit less churlishness in the world and a bit more .45 ACP on my hip. Call me a coward.

He suggested that I could just get in my car and drive away.

So I did.