people are having a bad time
People are having a bad time
On the street at the corner, and on top of a turned-over mail box stands Charles. He is in his ripped up half a shirt. He thinks this is a cool shirt and I think it is a stupid and dumb shirt. But whatever. We are going to this thing tonight weather he looks like a dick or not. It is okay because I will most likely act like a dick, that being my nature.
“Charles, how are things, man? I see that your dressed up nice.”
“What? Oh, the shirt. I love this shirt.”
“Isn't that the shirt you got in the big ass fight in? There are still bloodstains all over it. That is kind of anti-social in a way, don't you think?” I hated talking down to him like that but it had to be done. Charles was a bit of a weird guy with his big fat lips and shaved misshapen head.
“Anti-social? What do you mean? That is what I am all about. Dug, you know that. Fuck the system, right? They fuck up, not me.” Err, fucking dumb ass. It is so easy to say the reason you do anything bad is because the world is fucked up. Let's see him try and change it. That is why we were going to this seminar for this charity group. You see the commercials on TV. They advertise that the seminars have free to-fu. I understood them wanting to give that shit away.
It pissed me off the most because I was wearing a suit jacket and my best pair of jeans. I wanted to impress the good people. I wanted to get invited to their humus and red wine party afterwards, and I was worried that Charles was going to ruin it. We had decided to go to the thing eating McDonalds. We ran into a sweet looking girl in black rimmed glasses and wool knee socks outside. She screamed at us and told us about how they cut down the rain forest to have more room for cattle to graze .The main thing though was she was cute so I pretended, no, I cared about what she said, although I think we may owe these cows that we domesticated and made it impossible for them to live on their own. We owed them at least a decent place to graze. But I took a meeting brochure anyway and Charles and I made plans to go to it. Finally do something about what was wrong with the world instead of just bitching about it. It did not help that I had been reading some extremely left-wing literature of recent.
Any way we got to the seminar. People were smoking outside do to the level of methane indoors do to all the soy bean and other beans and rotten pale vegetarian stomachs.
“How does it work? I am sure you all want to know.” It was the girl from outside of McDonalds. “We need your money. I know, I know, you're saying 'well I am a student. I can't help,’ but I say ‘fuck you…’” The crowd was gasping. People were throwing their Rastafarian hats at the stage. The crowd was getting sweaty due to all of the wool socks. “We have to drop our standard of living. If you think you have it bad as a student. I suggest you go live in a hut in Africa and have your parents die when you’re 7 years old and be brought up by your AIDS-infected older brother. All the fucking education in the world is not going to do anything to help that!” This was not what I expected. I had brought about 20 bucks in change and old pennies to throw into a jar. I thought it was going to be more of a gesture thing, you know, kind of like saying “I care but I’ve got to live my life.” This word empathy I guess I only had a rudimentary grasp of. This girl wanted us to give up our dreams so that the world could be equal to start and then we could start getting education again, but the crowd was not for it.
They all left, or most of them. Me and Charles stood at the table eating humus and olives. Charles suggest that maybe we send this to Africa, he got some mean angry glares from smelly straggly haired guys with black rimmed glasses that were wearing women's shirts that said sexy. And their girlfriends had hairy armpits and dirty hair. We got scared and left.
“Maybe at some other time,” I said to Charles, “when I have a bit more my self. I can hardly stay afloat myself right now. I think that girl was a bit of a fanatic.”
“She seemed a little bossy,” he said. Strong or independent, that is what I saw when I first saw her. She was trying to make a difference.
“Sure was.” I said with a chuckle. But she was right. She was right, but who the fuck is really willing to give up that much? Not that many, that is for sure. Not me, I am sorry to say. Not now at least.