My Shameful Thoughts

I wish I could say I’ve never had thoughts like this. I wish I could say it wasn’t mine; it was a suggestion from my friend who is insane. Well, not really insane, just a really weird guy.

I was driving down the street, approaching an intersection. The light changed. No, my thoughts were not to speed up and beat the light. I slowed down. I’ve done that before, everyone has done that before. But, that was not the thoughts I’m ashamed of. Continue reading “My Shameful Thoughts”

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The Great Society

The strangest things can happen when you give a homeless man a dollar. You might not think so, but you clearly having given a dollar to the guy that sits on the corner of Millar Drive and 9th Ave.

If it was any other street and avenue intersection, any other homeless man, or woman, you might get a toothless grin. Maybe a ‘God bless ya’ as you walked away. But not this guy. Not the guy from Millar Drive and 9th Ave.

I threw the dollar into his upside down hat, and kept going. I’d thrown enough dollars to peddlers that I did it all without breaking a stride. I almost didn’t hear his reply to my thoughtless generosity, but one word caught my ear.

“Society.”

As a economics major in college, that was a word that I knew well. I had trained myself to see it in newspapers, in textbooks, in business reports. Society is an important word.

I turned around. “Pardon me?” I said.

“Do you want to be a part of The Great Society?”

The question confused me, “But I am, a citizen of the greatest society ever.”

“No, boy” he replied, “The Great Society of Vampyres.”

A Homeless Blues Player

Charles sat on the corner of Harbour and Glenville Road.

He looked up into the crisp August sky. His shoulders were momentarily relieved of their burden as he loud out a sigh. Where his anxiety filled breath and cigarette smoke started and ended one couldn’t be seen.

He looked down the street to his house. The beautiful Victorian house, with the wrap around veranda, white picket fence, and lovely flower gardens; that was his house. ‘Was’ being the key word.

Another heavy sigh filled the air. No one was around at this time of night. No one to hear his pain. No one to offer a hand.

In a recession, no one wanted to hear anything from has-been blues player. It didn’t matter that Charles had fans in every state. What matter was his financial security, he had none. Playing the blues wasn’t a steady or lucrative gig. Charles didn’t have the money to pay his mortgage.

He continued looking at his house. He had left saying he needed some air. What he wanted was time to figure out how to tell his family that they were homeless. So he sat on the corner of Harbour and Glenville Road.