I don't have a lot of money, and I am working hard to make my student teaching a success, and I wish I had more money or balls, so I need to stretch what little there is ...
~sigh!~
I was hunting for a chance to pay back some people when I ran to an ATM on the cool, relaxed Sunday afternoon. I was thinking 'Dammit, I really need more money', and was glad that I had the money in my pocket & account at that moment.
And then ... she walked up. The $10 & $20 bills just exited the machine when I drove out of the shade of the awning of the bank, and as I eased into the exiting driveway, I saw a woman rushing up, slumped shoulders, watching me, seeing me and waving, signalling, saying "Excuse me ... sir, excuse me."
Fuck.
She wore a purple tracksuit, no make-up, African-American about 40+ years of age, and holding a large purse with sneakers to match the outfit. I kept my window rolled up, but she basically walked into the locked door of the car, tapping the window with long nails.
"Excooze me sirrah", she softly lilted at me, as if working to be kind or calm, "but my car broke down and I am parked at the apartments around the corner."
She spoke to me through the glass.
Honestly, I didn't give a shit and if her foot wasn't under my tires so close to my door, but I didn't feel like being sued for trying to run her down.
(I know deep inside it's bad to think like that but I'm student-teaching FOR FUCKIN' FREE, meaning I make lesson plans, work in classes, grade papers, and do it all from 745am to 430pm every day of the week without any monetary compensation; I'm being paid in experience.
BULLSHIT!!)
I hate student teachings' rules, and as you saw in some of my previous blogs, some younger students than myself have been exempted from teaching, so I have a great deal of heartbreak and loathing inside myself.
Thus ... being a little shrewish about my dwindling money makes me shiver, but it's what I guess someone else asked of me.
She looked as if she may begin hyperventilating, and then in small soft sobs, said "I just need to get out to Brook Hollow and I need money to get there ... by bus, or cab."A beat, and she said "I'd be willing to do almost anything ... to get home."
She WAS NOT pretty in any way. She was plain, a shade under ugly, and the sobbing and noise didn't help me; I was not gonna seek something that I should have sought: a blowjob.
Did she apprach me because I came out of the bank? Did she see the money on my car seat?
It was an actual temptation, to seek a hummer as I drove this ugly woman home across town, or just a hand-job. But I figured that I didn't need to risk anything with an unknown like her, and GOD she wasn't pretty.
I suddenly began wondering "Gee, where's my 'Letters to Penthouse' moment with a woman?", and why aren't my charity cases bisexual with fake tits and a willingness to be photographed like a HUSTLER vcenterfold with their toy collection or just for my lurid obscene imagination.
Then I figured, maybe ... maybe a sinner needs to pay for his sins. Sadly, as I had just exited the ATM, the smallest bill I had was a $10 bill.
~Sigh!~
So, after the self-loathing and internal grossness of the woman overtook me, I pushed a $10 bill into her outstretched hand, remarking she'd better be taking a bus down on the corner VERY soon to at least get around town.
Her clothing was clean; she had a purse, jewelry, a cell phone, friends, a car, and the fuckin' BALLS to ask (and hope for) a hand-out from a stranger, ending our transation with "God Bless you", as if that would relinquish my need or internal inferiority or personal angst or sadness.
I'm not driving a sports car, nor wearing designer clothes, nor eating steak dinners every night with lobster as a side. But I am able to have a little more, and to be able to give something to someone who may need or want a little for their lacking.
That was last Sunday February 15, 2009.
THIS fuckin' Sunday, after I had lunch, a cripple rolled up to me, holding his body, exiting his car, also asking me for a hand-out. Part of my inner darkened soul tells me it's hard to think about someone having the courage to ask for money, and the other part of me says 'Don't part with a fuckin' red cent; you don't have that many of them you fat bastard!'
He was missing his lower teeth, and told me a story about just needing $2 for a gallon of gas to get him a few miles down the road to the Palo Alto subdivision, because of his treatment for something or for visiting someone sick in the hospital blah, blah, blah-blah!
I gave him $5 ... never thinking twice about it.
~pause~
Am I a fuckin' idiot? Or just a fool? Why isn't one of my phone lovers living nearby where I can have the leisure of her lust satisfying my mutual desire for her?
Why should I be good? I loathe being 'good'.
Why should I be good? I loathe being 'good'.
Bleah!
