I’m outside, after a drenching rain, waiting for the bus. I’m listening to my own little music (no, seriously, I swear I have the smallest mp3 player in the world) in my own little world when a bus pulls in. It’s not mine but I don’t care. Well, for about eight seconds.
Then I saw him.
I knew he was a talker.
And I knew where his bee line would lead.
Sort of. Nodlet is more like it. I’m on my toes. Not because I fear anything but because I know I have to bob and weave just to make sure there’s no opening for him to eye lock.
“I’m having a fucking tough day. Really, really tough. Got any suggestions?”
And here is why I don’t fear these moments. I’m the motherfucking KO king.
His eyes bugged out as if I’d actually gut shot him.
“Wha. . ahwhah. . .wha?”
He doesn’t recover but keeps standing.
“Am I bothering you?”
“Everyone bothers me. You were just next in line.”
Staggered back again.
“I can’t believe you’d give advice like that. To a stranger!”
“Who better to give it to? I wouldn’t feel obligated to go to the funeral.”
I’ve boxed. I’ve seen the out on your feet look. I’m not saying he didn’t have it before approaching me but it’s much more pronounced now.
“You must not have Jesus in your life?”
“Kicked him out. Had, like, a dozen hanger-ons not pulling their weight around the house.”
“You really should meet Jesus.”
This is when I let down my guard. I look him square in the eyes. He seems to soften. As if I’ve given him an opening. I think of it more as the old rope a dope.
“You seem to be the one who doesn’t want to meet the guy. I mean, I gave you the perfect way to meet him and you turned it down. Who’s the one with no faith?”
My bus comes and I head toward it. I turn back and he hasn’t moved an inch. I’m not one to pat myself on the back but even I have to admit telling someone to off himself then turning it into a lack of his faith is quite an accomplishment.