So there’s this bum hangout right around the corner from the Synthesis office. It’s like this shelter for young adults who want to sit around all day smoking cigarettes and hanging on the couch in the air conditioning with their pit bull mix instead of, well, anything else. Today on my way to get coffee, Dain and I walked by this young derelict who asks, almost as an afterthought, if he could bum a cigarette. It might have been a cold move, but this was my response:

I think singing one bar of the The Silhouettes’ “Get a Job” got my point across.

Being a dick is awesome.

I had to kick a she-bum out of my backyard this morning for attempting to hijack our recycling. And no, our yard is not open to the alley; she strolled right on through the back gate and right up to the house to hunt for bottles and cans.

Upon being caught red-handed, the 40 year old (looking more like 60) derelict responded, “The girl and guy told me I could take them. They said I could get them whenever I wanted. Does she still live here?” Hmmm… Last time I checked my roommates don’t give filthy street urchins open invitations to scavenge our home. But what? What is that you say?

“Why would I lie?”

Meaning, why wouldn’t I believe you? Oh I don’t know. Maybe because you’re a squalid and contemptible vagabond with no teeth and streaks of black grease all over your face.

Have a nice day! Come back soon!

BUMS: Part 1

It’s beautiful outside today. So in accordance with the good weather, I took a break from the action down at the City Plaza. For a few brief moments this particular plaza—which I normally hate—seemed quite serene. The sun shining, children splashing in the fountains, and then suddenly a raspy voice: “Pink Floyd…what a phenomenal band.”

This was the voice of a roaming derelict. This crusty, leather clad, mustachioed, late 40s burnout sat down next to me and decided to recant his favorite Floyd lyrics (due to my Pulse T-shirt). “We don’t need no education…” He also sang a little Billy Preston to warm the mood. Then came the hook: “I’m just tryin’ to round up 50 cents for some coffee…” Silence. “You broke?”

“Yeah, man. I’m broke.”

“Well, if I had the big bucks I’d give you some.” A cheery sentiment, but this coming from the same man who told me last weekend that he had an invention that would make him rich, if only he weren’t worried about somebody stealing the patent.

After the vagabond skulked off into the afternoon heat, I was hit up by a second derelict, only this time a 19-ish skater punk. “Hey man, can I get some change for a handgun so I don’t have to ask the next person?”

A handgun, eh? “No, man. I don’t have any change.”

It’s not too much to ask for a little peace on a sunny afternoon in the park. What can be done? How ’bout taking a page from Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome…