Friday, September 26, 2008

On the Corner of Mettersby and Park

At the bus stop: a Tuesday morning.
While waiting for the bus, a trio of gentleman with swatches of mysterious sores on the backs of their hands disentangle themselves from the nearby bushes. Do I have a dollar (for each of them) so that they can get a cup of coffee? The answer is no, and I shift away, and as I do so, the change jingles in my pockets. Well then, do I have any change? The answer is yes, (but only enough for myself,)* though I don't add that last part aloud. Will I give any of the change up? Depends. Can the three scabby bandits form a human pyramid and hold it for 30 seconds? They can. Can the three scabby bandits do that dance move where you hold one leg across your other knee and then jump over it? One of them can. I am about to ask more questions, but the bus comes.

*Before the school bus passes were available this term, I meticulously counted out $2.50 from my change pile each morning for bus fare both ways. After the quarters were depleted, there were the dimes. After the dimes, the oh so heavy nickels. Each day I balanced $1.25 worth of the clunkers in each of my front pockets.


Jill said...

You are funny one Meredith. Sometimes I can't tell if you are telling the truth. You're too good at telling stories.

w. leavitt said...

that was such a close call. i would have been sweatin bullets, as they say.