|
I stepped off the bus this evening, same time as I do every other evening. Not much was different than any other night. Except for maybe the temperature. And my usual bus ride companion did not show up for work tonight.
I took a cigarette out of my pack and put it in my mouth. As I closed the pack, I saw that I was running low. “time to shell over another $8.50” I said in my mind. I stowed the free cigarette behind my ear and walked toward the only open store in the strip mall across from my apartment.
As I walked, I noticed a well groomed man across the street, slamming his fist into the Toronto sun newspaper box, trying to get a free paper no doubt. He banged a few times, but then gave up and ran across the street towards me. I stepped quickly out of his path so that he could get to the newspaper box on my side of the street. Again, this man proceeded to slam his fist into lock mechanism on this different box.
“You have to pay for them, you know?” I said to him. He glanced at me briefly. A look of desperation on his face. Gritting his teeth.
“No change” he said.
I dug into my pockets and brought out 2 quarters and fed the paper box in front of him. He quickly ripped the door open, grabbed the last paper inside and ran awkwardly back across the street, Uttering the word ‘Thanks’ under his breath as he shuffled along.
I felt a little dejected. Not really that I was hopping for anything more than the word thanks. But I was interested as too why he was so desperate to get a ‘Toronto Sun’ newspaper, which is just as bad to read as the weekly supermarket tabloids. But hey, who am I to question. I read that trash as well when there isn’t anything else to hold my interest.
I continued on my way to the store for my cigarettes. The whole journey took about 2 minutes before I was back at my starting location. The cigarette I propped behind my ear was now lit in my right hand. I walked slowly to my building, enjoying my smoke. Totally forgetting that I just dumped close to $10 in the support of my filthy habit.
I got to the front steps of the building. I still had more than half a smoke left, so I decided to sit and finish it.
Now I know smoking is supposed to kill a lot of our sense of taste and smell. But when it comes to smelling shit, you smell it full force. I quickly check the bottom of my shoes to make sure I did not step in a big dirty pile of dog excrement. These were my dress / work shoes. (there is a big hole on the side of one of them… very classy) and I would have been upset if I had to go upstairs and scrub them clean for tomorrow. But alas, my shoes were clean.
I suddenly heard the slight sound of crinkling paper not too far away from where I was standing, Off in the bush. I paid it no mind. I was too busy being disgusted by the horrible odor that my nose was witnessing. I flicked what was left of my cigarette in the direction of the bush and headed inside. I heard a slight yelp of pain. I turned to see the well kept man who was in desperate search of a newspaper less than 5 minutes ago, running from the bush, tugging his pants up over his pasty white ass with one hand. The other batted at his hair, extinguishing the orange sparks from my cigarette butt.
“what the fuck’ I said out loud. I watched him run up the street and out of sight.
I walked back down the steps to where the man ran out of. And there I found the newspaper I had bought for the stranger. Most of it lay open on the ground. A large clump of human excrement lay down the spine of the paper. Other pieces of the paper were bunched up in wads and had appeared to be used to wipe himself. I laughed out loud at the sight of this.
On my way up in the elevator, I thought to myself. “why didn’t he grab a copy of ‘employment news’ or one of the other free newspapers that were in a box beside the Toronto Sun.”
I don’t think I will ever know. Unless I see him again tomorrow.
__________________
"Asking a bomb squad if an old bomb is still "real" is not the best thing to do if you want to save it." - denim
|