Friday, July 1, 2011

A8

So as he's wailing, mind you, I'm not used to seeing a big fella like that just out-and-out sobbing, so I'm a bit taken aback by these unfolding events. And he pathetically blurts out, "I don't have anyone -- I'm alone." Normally, ya know, I think I wouldn't put up with that type of selfishness. If that were my kid saying that type of nonsense I'd slap that boy's backside with some sturdy rawhide, ya know what I'm saying. But I think when you meet these strangers, and see their pain, your gut tells ya to be nice. You want to help if ya can. So I say, "Geez, mister, it ain't all like that. You've got family, dontcha? And friends? Hell, I'll be your friend. It ain't all like ya think it is." He got real quiet for a moment. He sniffled. I thought I said something that stuck. But then he says, "You don't understand."


"What don't I understand?"

"He's an asshole, but he's right. I know he is."

"Who is. Who made you feel this way?"

"He hates me. That's what he said." And then he just slips out of my hands and sobs like a starvin' baby. I'm just about done with this crybaby, but I make one more try. "Buddy, tell me. Who's saying all this to you?".

"Samsara."

That's when I said, "Mister, I'm going into my flat now, and I'm returning with my pistol. If you're still here when I return. I shoot you dead. Sure enough, He was there when I returned, so I kept my word.

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