muller

Once there was a man. The man couldn't dance. He walked along a wooden plank that was resting on a pair of cinder blocks. One of the blocks was taller than the other, and he wavered as he traversed from one end to the other. He turned the corner and saw some kids playing in the street. He motioned to one of the kids to throw him the ball. She did. He proceeds to wipe his muddy feet with the ball. This made the children upset. They harass him for a clean ball. Did he have a clean ball to give them, i think not. As he approached the corner store, there was a bum sitting outside. He thinks about pretending the bum isn't there so that he can spare some grief from his lack of good will. He makes it a point no to look the man in the eyes. The man mumbles something to him as he enters the store. He passes the man on by and on into the store. A small bottle of scotch later, he exits and turns the corner before the bum has a chance to accost him again. Does this old man not know how to swing a hammer, or wipe down a table? Was it boose, or drugs, or a lack luster life that leads this man to stand on the corner day after day. Either way, fuck it, he had things to do, he was a busy man. People want to be him, girls wanted to fuck him, he didn't have time to waste on thinking about this old man. He had deals to make, and shit to sell. Shit that was useless, and out of date, and meant nothing in the big scheme of things. On the outside, this man was a big shot, this man barked orders, and wore expensive clothes. Why was this man so compelled to stare and ponder over the life of this bum. He realized that he didn't care and moved on.