Close Calls

I just walked the ten minutes down to the shopping center to buy my morning Gatorade. It is a ritual of mine that I rarely forego. The scuttlebutt down there was that George had a very close call with the police last night.

“George got pulled over,” Big S said excitedly.

Big S loves gossip and spreading it around.

“What happened?” I asked very inquisitively and also concerned.

“They just told him he had a brake light out and let him go,” Big S said. “They didn’t even check for warrants.”

“That lucky son of a bitch,” I replied. “Good thing they didn’t smell his breath. You must have seen Sherman this morning.”

“Yeah, he brought his mother up here to buy her groceries,” Big S replied.

“Well, have you seen Ferret lately?” I then asked.

“He hung out down here all day yesterday,” Big S said. “He kept asking me for a dollar, but I wouldn’t give him one. I work for my money and he should too.”

“If you can call panhandling working,” I thought as I scoffed.

“He wants that damn mouthwash,” I replied. “He is going to pickle his insides.”

“He said one of the cashiers asked him why he was buying so much mouthwash and dat fuckin’ idiot told her,” Big S said.

I laughed. I know I shouldn’t be laughing about the dire circumstance of an alcoholic drinking that crap, but it made me wonder what the cashier thought when Ferret told her that. Most people would never think you can get shit faced off of mouthwash without killing yourself. If they did, then big brother would probably outlaw mouthwash or place some kind of restriction on buying it.

About this time Droopy can walking up. Droopy always looks so sad as if someone dear to him had just died.

“What up nigga?” Big S asked him.

“Ah, not much dawg,” Droopy replied.

“Hey, you ain’t got a dolla I could borrow?” Big S asked Droopy.

“Shit, nigga, you be havin’ mo money than me,” Droopy said.

I excused myself from the company of Big S, Droopy, and their banal conversation. I walked on down behind the shopping center to find Dumpster Diving Dan once again knee deep in the trash in the dumpster behind the grocery store. He saw me and waved for me to come over.

“Look at this!” He said excitedly holding up a completely unblemished apple.

“Now that is a prime find,” I said as I smiled. “You are a lucky man. That one must have escaped Richard (my old boss and head of the produce dept.). He would have never thrown out an apple that nice.”

“Hey, I ain’t seen you around much lately. You been okay?” Dan asked.

“Oh, yeah,” I replied. “I have just been staying at the house most days lately doing a lot of reading and browsing the internet.”

“Come on down tomorrow and help me feed the seagulls,” Dan said.

“I will see you in the morning and will bring some bread,” I replied. “I have a loaf that is almost too stale to eat.”

“I will be over by Big Jim’s package store at seven,” Dan said.

I told Dan goodbye and walked on up the street to home. It seems that in my absence from hanging out with the gang that things are still going along as usual and as they have done for years. Those guys are like clockwork.