I rode my bike down to the shopping center this morning before the heat of the day hit. It was a beautiful morning as I rode through my neighborhood; pleasantly cool with a gentle breeze. The sun was still hanging low on the eastern horizon shining with an orange blaze of glory and casting long, dark shadows throughout the neighborhood. The cicadas were already earnestly calling their staccato calls which would only grow in intensity as the heat of the day built. That sound brings back such fond memories of listless childhood summers.
I passed the local newspaper’s office and saw Dumpster Diving Dan’s Toyota Tacoma truck parked behind the shopping center. Its bed was filled with old furniture. I rode over to talk to him. I was glad to see him.
“Can you believe someone threw all this good furniture away?” He asked excitedly.
I took a long look at it in the back of his truck. It looked like junk to me and needed some serious refinishing. I guess the old saying that one man’s trash is another man’s treasure still rings true.
“Yeah, that is pretty nice stuff,” I said lying so as not to hurt his feelings.
“Did you feed the seagulls this morning?” I then asked.
“Yeah,” Dan said. “I am starting to get some flak from the city though. The flock has really grown.”
“Seagulls are rats of the sea. Mere vermin to most,” I thought after Dan said that. They are precious to Dan though.
“I hate to hear they are giving you a hard time,” I replied.
“Yeah, a cop said it was a health hazard and that he was going to speak to someone higher up about it,” Dan said.
“Well, I doubt there are any ordinances against feeding seagulls,” I replied.
“Let’s hope not,” Dan said.
I left Dan to continue his dumpster diving and rode on around to the front of the shopping center. I was hoping to find George out front and he was. He had called me earlier leaving a message that he would be down there most of the day. George was in rare form today. I chained my bike to a post out front and walked over to his car. Cigar smoke was billowing out the windows. He had on his sunglass and was bearing a big white toothy grin upon his face. I smiled as he looked humorous.
“What’s going on man?” I asked as I sat down in the passenger’s seat.
The door shut with a loud creak.
“Man, I had a fucked up night last night,” He replied.
“What happened?”
“I lost fifty dollars in a poker game over at Pookie’s house,” He said. “It was two days worth of work. You ain’t got twenty dollars I could borrow?”
“Dude, I was hoping you would let me borrow twenty dollars,” I replied. “I am broke as hell.”
As we were sitting there I saw HIV/AIDS Guy come out of the dollar store looking suspicious with a backpack slung over his shoulder.
“What in the hell is he doing?” I asked George. “There is nothing in that store he would want to buy.”
“He is boosting batteries and stuff and selling them for crack.”
“What a dumb-ass,” I replied.
“Yep, he ain’t the smartest of niggas,” George said as he laughed.
About this time a cop car came slowly cruising through the parking lot. George had an open forty ounce bottle of malt liquor between his legs. He scrambled to screw the top back on and slide it up under the seat. He then reached for a pack of gum on the dash and put a piece in his mouth to mask the smell of beer in case the cops decided to ask us some questions. The cop car slowly drove by eyeing us suspiciously, but kept on cruising.
“Damn you live dangerously man,” I said.
“I’m tellin’ ya brotha,” George replied. “My luck has been fucked up these past few days. That was a close call.”
“Good thing they didn’t run your license plate or that failure to appear warrant would pop up.”
“Tell me about it!” George exclaimed.
After the close call with the police, George decided to move on to greener pastures or so he hoped. He was headed back to Pookie’s house to try his luck with his last ten dollars in another poker game if he could get one up and running. I bid him farewell. I then walked over to Big S and managed to borrow two dollars from him. I purchased my Gatorade, sat outside to drink it, and then rode on home. I’m telling ya. Having two bucks feels like a million dollars when you have been as broke as I have been this past week. That Gatorade tasted like liquid gold. Big S also earned a few good karma points in my book as well. I could almost forgive him for accosting that poor, little old lady for a dollar the other day.
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