Newsgroups: talk.bizarre Path: netcom.com!elvis From: elvis@netcom.com (kEvin) Subject: Gifts Message-ID: Followup-To: don't Summary: giving to the homeless Keywords: gifts Lexus wallet Organization: Imperfect Chaos Date: Tue, 16 May 1995 04:26:06 GMT "Spare some change man?" Street people have become so common and persistent out here that it's difficult not to ignore them. This one was pretty typical: very dirty, raggedy beard, and in need of serious dental work. Was that blood on his shirt? The stains spread as I watched, soaking into one large splotch that covered his chest. "You're bleeding. Let me call an ambulance. Just stay here, I'll be right back," I said, almost pleading in case he was on something and prone to argue. "No man, don't worry 'bout it, it's 'nuthin," he said cajolingly, "Bullets aren't a problem, but I could use some cash?" he asked, lifting his head for the first time so that I could see his eyes underneath the brim of his large and shapeless hat. As he said this last, I was pierced by a midnight sun reflecting off of two polished sapphires and stood there uncomprehendingly. "You need help..." "No man," he cut me off, "I give help. I need money; don't worry ok?" "I ..." "Look!" he snarled, lifting his shirt, "still think I need your help?" I stared. I saw a small red mark centered on his smooth chest, an inch diameter cicatrice just below it and to my right, and a bleeding hole in his belly lower down. As I watched, the red mark disappeared, the wound closed, and the scar smoothed and faded into his skin. He let his shirt fall. In a tired, defeated voice he asked, "spare change?" Whatever inhabited my body after fear gave chase to reason drew my wallet from my pocket and tossed it in his lap before flying away on terror's pulsing wings. When the beating sound grew too loud, I slowed down so my heart wouldn't burst. I'd ducked into the park, and the bright moonlight turned the landscape into a surreal mix of shadows and fairy fire. Panting heavily, I stopped to lean against a tree and collect myself. Hallucination or reality, I didn't care about the vagrant anymore; I just wanted to get home and forget about this. When you find yourself exhausted and sweaty, penniless, and lost in a strange part of town; getting home takes on an unusually sharp significance. Damn, I was fucked. The tap on my shoulder preceded my shout by about 1 second (in a causal relationship, I note.) "Hey man," the piercing blue eyes said, "I can't take things this way. I know that's not right." Aside from his eyes, the bum looked so normal. He smelled bad, but it was sweat-and-booze-and-halitosis-normal bad. I could believe he was human without too much effort, wierd regenerative abilities notwithstanding. "You scared the shit of me," I gasped. "I'm fucking sorry man, here's your wallet back. Do you want me to get you out of the park?" Given a choice between wandering around lost in an inner city park after midnight and pal-ing around with a mutant freak, you really do have some options to consider. "Are you human?" I asked. (it can't hurt to ask, right?) "I was a long time ago. I don't know about now. Things change." He started to sob, "Oh how things change." If this was an act to decieve me and lure me into some kind of trap, it was a good one. Something about this guy seemed alright. He radiated some ominous vibes, but there was a glow to him too. "Would you like to talk?" "Everybody's got problems, I don't think I'll make the world a better place spreading mine around," he replied, "Let's get you home safe. c'mon." And he started to walk away, gesturing for me to follow. "You know, it might make things easier for you if you share your pain. It can't hurt things just to talk, right?" Remember, the curiousity that killed the cat was the genuine stuff. I had it too. He licked his ruined teeth and swallowed. "I just don't know. I want to tell you, but I can't trust myself anymore. Do you think it will do you any good to know?" "If I understood you, I wouldn't be so worried about you, right?" He smiled, apparent delight crossing his face. "You're probably right. It would be good to tell you the whole story. Maybe you can learn from my mistakes. "I started out as an athlete, then a warrior, then a king..." "You're speaking metaphorically?" I interrupted. He shook his head sadly, "No. I was born a long time ago when kings still had their kingdoms and the gods still visited the Earth. I was young and bright and I burned to consort with them. I built temples to their glory and wrote poems in their honor. I managed to attract one of the goddesses to visit me..." "Really good poetry?" I interrupted again. "No," he smiled, "pretty bad actually." "Then why..." I stopped when he unzipped his trousers. "wow." "Yeah, that's what she said. Unfortunately, you just can't do one goddess without getting a reputation. Pretty soon I was having regular visits with most of the high high muckety-mucks..." "The goddesses rule the Pantheon?" He frowned. "No. You got a problem with that?" "Oh no, I just misunderstood, sorry." "...So anyway, after some heavy duty action on the couch, I was walking out to the river to swim, and I heard some guys dissin' my patron, so I pointed out the error of their ways. I was both the king and a devoted lover." "What did you do to them?" "Nothing." "Nothing?" "Yeah," he nodded, "they were part of a coup, and after they goaded me into a fight, they kicked the shit out of me while their friends grabbed the palace and the port." "Oh." I nodded understandingly. (or tried to anyway) "They didn't want to kill me at first, so they threw me into a cell till the situation stabilized enough that they could get away with murder." He snorted. "Dumb move, they knew I had friends in the highest places. As soon as I was conscious, I prayed up a storm, and the big cheese decides to help me out. He's kind of pissed at the situation, what with those bozos dissin' him publicly and all, so he makes me his avatar and gives me the gift of righteousness." "Righteousness, like the TV preachers have?" "No, righteousness as in if I get in a fight and my cause is right, I win." "wow. so you're invincible? that's how you healed those bullet wounds?" "Right," he nodded, "a couple of muggers tried to roll me. That doesn't work if I'm sober enough to struggle." "So why are you begging for change on the streets? why not find an evil and lead a movement against it?" Right about here, a single tear dripped out of one eye. "Remember the gods?" "yeah, what happened to them?" "They were assholes. All of them." "unh-hunh, and...?" "After I figured out that they were holding humanity down for their own fucking little jollies. I told them to buzz off and leave the place alone. They made the mistake of fighting me." "But they're gods, how can you win?" "They were assholes, I couldn't lose. righteousness, remember." "Why didn't they take that away?" "The gifts of the gods can't be revoked. Remember Cassandra? I met her once." "So you beat up the gods, and you ended up here out of regret?" "No, I don't regret that. I regret many things, but not that." "Well?" "They cursed me so that I couldn't tell right from wrong. I beat their decadent asses into another dimension, but they zinged me on the way to oblivion." He started to sob a bit, "zinged me good. Choking back tears, he continued, "Without any way to tell the good fights from the bullshit, I started getting my ass whupped regularly. I'd do things, terrible things, because I didn't realize they were wrong. Afterwards, when I realized, I'd regret." "You'ld use your righteousness to do bad things?" I was a bit concerned hearing this. "No, if I do a wrong, it doesn't work. I can win, but I'm no more likely to triumph than any other loser." The story rang true; I was overwhelmed. We'd walked back to an area I knew, and I thanked him. "Is there anything I can do to help?" "I don't know. Is this your car?" he asked. "Yeah," I grinned, "would you like a ride in a Lexus?" Smoothly, very smoothly, he said "Yes." I never saw the knife, and he had my car keys and wallet before I hit the ground. I heard him chuckle, "works every time, must be good." kEvin must. be.