Bernie is foul. He’s been on the streets for twenty years.
The new Nights guy has found him passed out on a sidewalk off the Boulevard. He asks for another car.
I slide by.
As we lift Bernie up, a fresh and fragrant fecal odor hits my nose.
Bernie, did you just drop a load?
“Yeah, I’m sorry.
It just happened.”
The new guy’s eyes roll.
He’s dreading the transport to Detox.
You want the wagon?
There’s still time.
“Yes!”
As we wait for the county van to arrive,
we do our best to stand up wind.
My trial for tomorrow plead out. Today, I was subpoenaed for a civil commitment hearing on Thursday.
Posted by: RD | September 29, 2010 at 02:40 AM
Song of the Night: Sugar Ray's Fly.
Posted by: RD | September 29, 2010 at 01:55 PM
Ha ha! I try to do the same thing with some of the people at my gym. :)
Posted by: Sister Copinherhair | September 29, 2010 at 05:43 PM
@Sister,
Uhm, you know he crapped his pants? Right?
:)
Posted by: RD | September 29, 2010 at 08:17 PM
Umm...you know my gym has mostly elderly people, right?
I never ruled that out.
:P
Posted by: Sister Copinherhair | September 30, 2010 at 04:07 AM
RD,
Good luck with the upwind thing,
Ann T.
Posted by: Ann T. Hathaway | December 28, 2010 at 07:10 AM