Good Sam
With today's society and it's everchanging landscape, life dictates that we must be aware of our surroundings. We tend to watch the people that could possibly have a chance to affect you in a negative manner or change the way in which we live. That's why on this very Thursday evening, I did a cautious double take of the guy that walked into the grocery store in front of me. I don't know what it was, but there was something about him that wasn't right, and it gave me an uneasy feeling.
His face was hidden and unrecognizable under the trucker's cap and hood from the sweatshirt he wore. His feet appeared to be soaked, as his old worn Puma sneakers made squishing, flopping sounds on the tiled floor of the grocery store. His small slight frame was covered with oversized jeans and an oversized hoodie, while strapped to his back was a beat-up old backpack that had seen better days. Over everything else that he was wearing, was one of those cheap see through yellowish, dollar store rain ponchos. As hard as they tried to keep the wearer dry, they failed.
The store wasn't one of the larger Super Centers that people seemed to flock to, but it had everything that I needed, and to many people's relief, it also had security.
Doing the job that he is paid to do, the guard stopped the guy in front of me, pointed to the "NO BACKPACKS" sign and held out his hand. He told the wearer that it would be waiting for him at the front when he was done shopping. Without any argument, buddy placed it into a plastic tray, handed it over and grabbed one of the handheld carry baskets.
After leaving the produce section we parted ways, each heading in our own directions. We did pass one another in a couple of different aisles and at one point I noticed him sliding, of all things, dental floss into his pocket. I know that theft costs us all in the end, but I wasn't about to rat someone out of taking a $2.00 spool of string.
With my cart full of supplies for the upcoming week, I headed toward the cashier. As luck would have it, my new focus of attention was in front of me in line and was unloading his basket. I was surprised by the contents of his shopping excursion, four bananas, four cans of tuna, four apples, a bag of no name fake Oreo's, and a two-pound bag of the washed and peeled mini carrots.
I had read this guy completely wrong. He wasn't some kind of horrible, thieving criminal, he was homeless.
When the cashier told him the total was $17.84, it caused a small bit of alarm as he had what appeared to be only $15 in his hand. Setting the cash down, he scoured his pockets looking for any loose change that would help even up the tab.
Being brought up in a family where most of the time, we were down on our luck, makes you feel like helping whenever you can. Peeling $10 off of my small roll of bills, I handed it to the cashier. She didn't bat so much as an eyelash, but the little guy softly said, "It's okay, I'll put something back", but it was already too late. The cashier had scooped up the cash, printed off the receipt and was handing back the change. The little guy in front of me, and I keep saying little guy because I stood a good 10 inches taller than him and was probably a hundred and twenty-five pounds heavier, turned to hand me the change.
I looked down and felt a prang of sadness. His tiny thin hand was dirty, shaking and shriveled from the rain. "No you keep it. Use it for something else next time." The tone of my voice must have sold him because he pocketed the cash, grabbed his bag, along with his backpack and disappeared.
My total was significantly higher than the customer before me, of course I had a fifty-pound bag of dog food and a ten-pound box of dog treats for Duke in there along with my own groceries.
Lightning flashed through the grey dreary sky, shortly before thunder clashed like a thousand stomping horses. The rain was picking up and with the cold early spring air, it was going to be another shitty night to be outside.
I took very little time to throw my stuff into the backseat of my truck and run the cart back to the holding bin, but when I reached the front seat it was already too late, I was soaked. Cursing my luck, I turned the ignition and backed out of my stop.
The wind and rain pelted my windshield as the wipers thumped their steady tune. Driving in this shit was never a favorite of mine. Truth be told, I'd rather drive in snow. It's just something about rain that chills me to the bone.
Driving past Beamer Park, another round of lightning lit up the sky and out of the corner of my eye I saw something that alarmed me. I knew instantly what it was, but I didn't want to admit it, so I kept driving. 100 yards had passed by. 200 yards and then 300. Shit.
My conscience had always got the better of me and tonight would be no different. Pulling a U-turn on the deserted, rain swept street wasn't a problem. I backtracked up the wet asphalt, pulled another U-turn and hit the brakes. Not that far off the street was a blue fiberglass tarp flapping in the wind. It did little if anything to protect the person wearing the yellowish rain poncho from the rain that battered it from all sides.
I rolled down the passenger side window and honked my horn. Nothing. The guy just sat there with his head down. Another honk and still nothing. After the third honk I yelled out, "Buddy, let's go." Man, this Good Samaritan shit isn't all that it's cracked up to be.
Ah, the hell with it. I was already soaked from the rain at the parking lot, so what was a little bit more. I sprinted across the grass up to the homemade hut. "Buddy let's go. It's gonna be really shitty for the next few days. You can sleep in my garage if you don't want to sleep in the house. At least you'll be dry and out of this crap." Still no movement. "Look, I'm not some kind of psycho. All I'm doing is offering you someplace warm and dry for a couple of nights. I've been homeless. I know what it's like."
His arms moved, so I knew that he was still alive. "Look man, I saw you at the store. You're already soaked to the bone and shaking. Stay out here and you'll be staying wet for the next week." Still no movement. "Your call, but in two minutes I'm drivin away. Take it or leave it. Your choice."
Walking back to my truck, I was angry at myself for how wet I was and wished for a second that I lived in Arizona or at least kept a rain poncho in my truck. My work boots were soaked right through to my socks and I needed them for my shift tomorrow. Everything else I was wearing was a write off. Unless I planned on putting everything in the dryer, it would take the weekend for it to dry.
Both doors on my truck slammed shut at the same time. Looking over at my new house mate, I noticed that buddy held his backpack tight to his chest and shivered as I put the truck into gear. The six-minute drive to my house, was a silent affair.
I knew that my night would only get worse because of this damn rain. Duke would need to run the backyard to do his business, and like any other three-year-old hound, he wouldn't be in any hurry to come back inside. He almost always ended up a muddy mess.
My house isn't big or grand like so many others in this city, but it's what I can afford and with a lot of help from the bank, it's mine. It has a good-sized bathroom, two bedrooms, the customary kitchen, living room combo, a small detached garage, a nice deck off the back, a fenced yard for Duke, and it has all the furniture that I need, because I don't really entertain.
We entered through the side door and were greeted by my hopeless watchdog. The only damage that he would do to an intruder, would be if he hurt them with his wagging tail.
