Call it Karma

i was just a few hills from home when i passed a man carrying a snowboard and other such snow-gear. he was walking downhill and i had a slight urge to tell him about johnny moseley.

it would be easier if the hills were just covered in snow.

but i just kept walking. it would've only gotten a half-laugh and slowed us both down at best.

about a block up, i saw two things:

1. a homeless man, laying on the ground.
2. a pair of snowboarding goggles, laying on the ground.

i grabbed the goggles and looked back at the snowboard-carrying man.

is it just me or does the word "goggle" look very misspelled now that google owns the world?
they had to be his, but i really didn't want to go back down the hill when i was just a few blocks from my apartment, the liquor store, and-- therefore-- beer.

i started trying to convince myself that the goggles could belong to anyone. after all, the homeless man was wearing a silk chinese robe that certainly didn't seem to fit him. and sometimes, when i'm lazy i'm just very lazy. in fact, during those times, the only part of me that is not lazy is the part of my mind that finds super-powered strength to justify why being lazy is actually very smart.

"he dropped it," the silky homeless man said while pointing at the snowboarder.

well, now i just have to go back downhill. dammit.

i could see the liquor store. but i stumbled downward, away from the sweet alcoholic treats that waited for me inside, and toward the goggle-owner. once i was close enough, i went through my brain for the best possible word to shout in order to get his attention. that word was "OY!" and i'm not sure why.

then i sort of moved the goggles toward him and grunted a little.

"oh!" he said, "thank you! you're-- thanks, man. thank you."

"mm," i said, "enjoy."

i figured it wasn't very important what filled my sentences since i was already helping out a stranger and it was preventing me from getting to beer and home as quickly as possible. and he didn't seem to be offended. he also didn't seem to be a whole lot better with surprise sentences.

up the hill, i ran into the hobo in the chinese gown.

"you get him?" he asked.

"mm," i nodded.

"you got a dollar?" he asked.

"no," i said.

"got change?" he asked.

"no," i said.

and then i was forced to wait at a red light, standing next to this man.

"you got a cigarette?" he asked.

come on.

"i'm not going to give you anything," i said to him firmly.

"fine," he mumbled, "fuck you."

i couldn't decide if this man thought he had earned giveaways by pointing out the owner of the goggles, or if he had taken me for a very generous man because of my downhill sprint. but suddenly i felt like i had all the time in the world to talk. i could get beer later. i could wait for the red light twice if i had to.

"fuck me?" i asked, "firstly, i am not entitled to give you something just because you asked. this is not fucking halloween-- even if you're wearing that costume. secondly, you watched that guy drop his goggles and just sat here. you didn't help him, so why should i help you?"

"yeah, fuck you," he said again.

"okay," i said.

and then i lit a cigarette and smoked it in front of him through the next red light.