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Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Gruff Hobo Honesty

 A few years ago, as a way of working off some community service for repeatedly passing out at the city hall, I found myself  as one of them fancy telephone working volunteers. There was 3 days of training for it, but I was busy watching monster truck re-runs, so I sent 'red nosed' stewy to them meetins for me in exhcange for a few blue ribbons of beer. I wasn't sure exactly what I was doing, but it seemed like a lot of upset folks was callin' to me, whinin', "I don't know why to go on, I'm lonely, etc."
I says,"Pard, you need me to send the police? Ye got an injury? Or  you callin in to vote against allowin' Polynesians in the neighborhood? Cause, these things isn't things anyone can help you with."

   After I heard a shot go off, I figured that one probably did need the police, but I had no address, so what's the point I figures. I'm sitting, answering telephones and feelin' rather important while giving people similar doses of reality. I gets another one of these calls, the last of the night as matter of fact.
 "I'm $600 in the whole, my girlfriend is pregant. it's probably mine, and I keep getting these stress headache,...." 

  Right then, I knows what to do.

"Partner, you need to cash in your chips then, this ole rock ain't working out for you too well."
 The other day I was rousted out of slumber by an Officer Friendly what used his night stick to pry me off a particularly comfortable bench. The officer says to me, "Why don't you read the newspaper instead of sleeping under it?"  Now, as I've said on many different buses, in many different lines at the social services office, afront of liqour stores and in any other public forum, I don't believe in newspapers. Which ain't to say they don't exist, but only that the men of the 20th century and I have different priorities. In the old days, we were learned on the Sear's Roebuck calendar, and most of my literal flowers come from that booklearnin'.
   I suppose its because of this swellin  of the gord that I have more stories than I have time to tell.  This damned rumplestiltskin apparition who follows me around For instance, I can't tell you about:

- the real story of Johhny Appleseed-it's really rather vulgar, and those of you at the soup kitchen know I won't hold with it.

- The time when great, great, great, grandpa refused some hobo a drink of water and a  few months later a sulfurin and fiery volcano burned away his 'stead.

- the time I worked at the print shop in Florida,  year 2000, and the boss claimed I made some errror on the ballots we was copyin' fer the state, but that he didn't have time to fix'em.

-  How the Men in Black movie had to be held back in order to turn it into a commentary, err, comedy full of laughter.
  and the list goes on, but I suppose I am open to suggestion.

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