Bums I have known
For no reason anyone can determine, I woke up this morning thinking of bums.
Now being that I frequent suburbs and corporate office parks in recent years, I have encountered less than my share of inebriated, pontificating vagabonds, all husbands aside, but my memories remain fond from my college years in a dog-eared sea town. Two bums in particular come to mind.
Bum 1: "Nothing is sadder than a barren woman"
As a carless drifter, I spent approximately 28% of my early 20's waiting at the Santa Cruz metro center for the bus that would whisk me away to whichever flea-infested, overpopulated beach shack I called home at the time. One could readily strike up conversations with a rotating assortment of bums at this locale, as many bathed in its bathroom sinks and trolled its idle population of bus passengers for change. One sunny afternoon i was sitting on the concrete island in the middle of the center waiting for a bus to San Jose. A malodorous old fellow seated himself beside me and struck up a conversation that went something like this.
Him: "You got kids?"
Me: "No."
Him: "I will tell you something. I will tell you one thing. And that thing is this. There is nothing sadder, nothing sadder in this world, than a barren woman.
Me: "Uh, I can think of something sadder."
Him: "There is nothing sadder than a barren woman. By god.
Me: "OK, then."
Him: "You think I have no money."
Me: "Actually, I didn't--"
Him: You young women, you think I'm broke. You think I'm a broken down old drunk."
Me: "Uh..."
Him: "I've got money, all right. Look here. Look at this." Opens coat and reaches into grimy pocket. Pulls out some bills and throws them to the ground at my feet.
Me: "Uh..."
Him: "See, you were wrong. You were wrong about me. There aint nothin sadder than a barren woman."
Bum #2: Whore
This bum had some serious problems with the sauce, not to say that the above bum did not. But I feel that it is imperative to remark that his condition was much closer to dead than the abovementioned bum. He dressed in a great, tattered jumpsuit of grease-stained rags, and his hair and beard were Dumbledore-white. His skin, burnt beyond recognition from cirrhosis and the sun, peeled off his face in sheets.
This fellow lived behind a Pizza Hut dumpster located directly across the street from my boyfriend's house. This house was a teetering two-story tear-down right off the main highway that ran through town, and thus it was sort of a magnet for weirdness. Our bum in fact took note of our activities at times when the haze of inebriation lifted slightly, and sometimes was known to lurk on the front sidewalk, shouting his observations.
One day I was walking with the boyfriend down to the corner, likely in pursuit of Taco Bell, when the bum appeared. He took immediate umbrage with my gender by declaring:
"Whore!!" Of course I have never accepted money for affections, and wondered where this bum had drawn this odd conclusion. "Whore!!!!" He cried. He then strangely added: "Why don't you make babies???" The boyfriend and I turned to one another, puzzled. None of this was making sense, I wonder if the bum knew that?
Upon our return, Taco Bell bags in hand, we likely discovered the bum face-down on the sidewalk in front of Pizza Hut, as he was often found, sometimes later to be revived by paramedics if a particularly spooked local patched through a call to 911.
Now being that I frequent suburbs and corporate office parks in recent years, I have encountered less than my share of inebriated, pontificating vagabonds, all husbands aside, but my memories remain fond from my college years in a dog-eared sea town. Two bums in particular come to mind.
Bum 1: "Nothing is sadder than a barren woman"
As a carless drifter, I spent approximately 28% of my early 20's waiting at the Santa Cruz metro center for the bus that would whisk me away to whichever flea-infested, overpopulated beach shack I called home at the time. One could readily strike up conversations with a rotating assortment of bums at this locale, as many bathed in its bathroom sinks and trolled its idle population of bus passengers for change. One sunny afternoon i was sitting on the concrete island in the middle of the center waiting for a bus to San Jose. A malodorous old fellow seated himself beside me and struck up a conversation that went something like this.
Him: "You got kids?"
Me: "No."
Him: "I will tell you something. I will tell you one thing. And that thing is this. There is nothing sadder, nothing sadder in this world, than a barren woman.
Me: "Uh, I can think of something sadder."
Him: "There is nothing sadder than a barren woman. By god.
Me: "OK, then."
Him: "You think I have no money."
Me: "Actually, I didn't--"
Him: You young women, you think I'm broke. You think I'm a broken down old drunk."
Me: "Uh..."
Him: "I've got money, all right. Look here. Look at this." Opens coat and reaches into grimy pocket. Pulls out some bills and throws them to the ground at my feet.
Me: "Uh..."
Him: "See, you were wrong. You were wrong about me. There aint nothin sadder than a barren woman."
Bum #2: Whore
This bum had some serious problems with the sauce, not to say that the above bum did not. But I feel that it is imperative to remark that his condition was much closer to dead than the abovementioned bum. He dressed in a great, tattered jumpsuit of grease-stained rags, and his hair and beard were Dumbledore-white. His skin, burnt beyond recognition from cirrhosis and the sun, peeled off his face in sheets.
This fellow lived behind a Pizza Hut dumpster located directly across the street from my boyfriend's house. This house was a teetering two-story tear-down right off the main highway that ran through town, and thus it was sort of a magnet for weirdness. Our bum in fact took note of our activities at times when the haze of inebriation lifted slightly, and sometimes was known to lurk on the front sidewalk, shouting his observations.
One day I was walking with the boyfriend down to the corner, likely in pursuit of Taco Bell, when the bum appeared. He took immediate umbrage with my gender by declaring:
"Whore!!" Of course I have never accepted money for affections, and wondered where this bum had drawn this odd conclusion. "Whore!!!!" He cried. He then strangely added: "Why don't you make babies???" The boyfriend and I turned to one another, puzzled. None of this was making sense, I wonder if the bum knew that?
Upon our return, Taco Bell bags in hand, we likely discovered the bum face-down on the sidewalk in front of Pizza Hut, as he was often found, sometimes later to be revived by paramedics if a particularly spooked local patched through a call to 911.
posted by Strikethru at
9:11 AM
6 Comments:
Oh, but by all means you must tell of the inebriated, pontificating vagabond husbands you have known.
This is referring to my first husband.
I'm offended. That homeless guy who's so sad about barren women is completely denying the pain of all the women who procreate and then suffer postpartum depression. They both have a right to their sadness, and who is that guy to claim one group is sadder than the other.
I don't think you heard the man, ma'am. He said "there is nothing sadder than a barren woman." Nothing!!
Speaking of nothing, there is nothing ironic about this statement coming from a drunk bus stop drifter is there??
There is something for everyone in Santa Cruz. College towns are kind of neat. Hey I found a great camera on the beach where some drug addicts had a party. It was buried in the sand next to beer bottles and needles.
How many husbands did you have their ? Ha Ha.
You might not want to develop the film on that camera... could be something scary
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