Not ten steps outside the restaurant, a homeless guy around our age demanded, "Do you guys have money? I am starving to death."
(Normally, I am pretty homeless-supportive. However, a rude homeless person can go fly a kite, as far as I am concerned, and especially a homeless guy who is about 30, able-bodied, and free of the more obvious mental illnesses.)
"Sorry, I don't have any cash," I said.
"Me neither," Diego added.
Instead of nodding in disappointment, the homeless guy scowled at us. "Can you go buy me some bread? I'm literally hypoglycemic. I'm literally dying!"
At this point, he was yelling, and I was in no mood to take either of his "literallys" seriously. I was briefly shocked into silence by his rudeness, but after about a three second delay, I was ready to tell him to go ask the food bank or the emergency room for help if his life was so endangered--but before I could say anything, Diego said, "Do you want a slice of pizza?"
He opened his to-go box to show the homeless guy his pizza. The homeless guy came over and took the entire box, without so much as a "thanks."
Then Diego and I watched as the homeless guy walked up the sidewalk, picking ingredients off the pizza and throwing them at cars.
Diego's jaw dropped as we watched the homeless guy take about three bites of the pizza and throw the rest on the ground. "Seriously? That pizza was really good!" He was forlorn. I was furious.
This is a life lesson, folks. Homeless people are to be helped. Rude homeless people are to be lectured.
The best part was when I got to my car and found lemon rind on my rear windshield.
|You owe my friend half a gourmet pizza, homeless guy!|