Chapter 3 — Discussion Of Morality With The Homeless

I usually don’t say anything because I’m a conflict-averse person, but this moment was too much. He had the audacity to order a pack of cigarettes and a sandwich after lying to my face?

I had to say something.

“Hey man… I thought you were going to use the money for your kids. Why are you buying cigarettes? You’re not gonna have enough to buy food to feed them!”

The cashier accepted the $20 and handed the homeless man a box of Marlboro Reds. The homeless man was looking at the box, silently examining the pack. He gave the bottom of the pack three solid smacks. Whap! Whap! Whap!

He finally looked at me and saw that I was waiting for a response.

“You wanna know why I did that?”

“Yes, I wanna know how you could lie about your kids to trick me into giving you money, and then have the nerve to use that money for your boges in front of me.”

“No, I was asking if you wanted to know why I smack the bottom of the pack. You never wondered about it?

I stared at him, slowly feeling more and more outraged. I hadn’t moved from my spot but I could feel my jaws clenching.

“I don’t care about what you do with cigarette boxes. Stop ignoring my questi-.”

“I smack the bottom because then the tobacco inside each cigarette gets packed. It burns more evenly and slowly that way. Gotta get the most out of each, don’t you think? Hard to get my hands on one of these.”

I could feel my fists clench. I didn’t want to hit him, but the fact that he had no shame in what he did was almost too much. If anything, I should have smacked that pack out of his hand and stomped on it.

He peeled off the plastic wrapping of the cigarette box and shoved it in his pocket. He opened the pack, brought the box close to his nose, and took a deep inhale.

He chuckled softly and murmured,

“Ah, I can’t get enough of this. If I gotta thank God for three things. It would be for him creating me, creating you, and these cigarettes!”

He took out two and put one into his mouth. He then extended the other cigarette to me. I stood still, watching his every move, wanting desperately to slap the cigarette onto the floor. I couldn’t find the courage to do it. He shrugged and withdrew his charitable offer.

“Whatever — more for me.”

Composing myself to the best of my ability, I was able to address him again:

“Hey, I’m really running out of patience here. Stop pretending like you didn’t hear me and tell me if everything was a lie.”

He finally turned to me and looked me in my eyes.

“Yeah, I lied to you. So what? You want me to say sorry? Well, SORRY I’ve used it all up, son. Now the $20 belongs to the guy over there. It’s not my $20 anymore! Take it up with this guy!”

My eyes were practically about to pop out of their sockets.

“You don’t feel any guilt lying to my face about it? What the fuck man? You lied straight up to my face! Don’t you feel any sort of remorse for that?”

“And again the question is — so what? I lied to you because I knew that you wouldn’t cough up money any other way. You probably would have lied and told me that you wished you could help when you actually had the means to help me but simply didn’t want to. In fact, you’re the one who’s at fault here for being naive enough to buy my story, and now you just feel angry that I tricked you and want some sort of revenge or apology. Do you think you would have felt better if I had walked down the street to the other deli to order my pack of cigarettes and sandwich without you knowing? The ending is the same! You’ve just been conned by my story and you just have to accept it! Stop making a scene here boy and let’s go about our lives.”

I felt the rage build up within me. I had charitably given this man money and he not only lied to me but refused to feel remorse for it and then was shaming me for falling for his lies!

“You shouldn’t go about your life lying to others like that. I gave you money because I trusted that you were telling the truth, and I wanted to help you and your kids. Yes, I feel ashamed but that’s because I was naive enough to put faith in a stranger like you so easily. Do you not have any morals? You talk about God yet you don’t act in accordance with his rules. You’re just using God so you can feel like you have a better future than you have here in this world, where you’re just a bum.”

While listening, he produced a smirk that produced more hatred and anger within me. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and started to spin it between his fingers.

“Ah, you talk of morals! You, who has never lived a second in my shoes, dare to assume you know of the life I led. Do you know what it’s like to be cast out onto the street for 40 years? Do you know what it’s like to be looked at as if I were a vermin? As if I were the same as the rats in the sewers? As if no one would bat an eye if I was thrown out with the garbage that laid in the street, so that no one would ever have to lay their eyes on me again and save them from feeling bad about not doing anything to help the homeless? Have you ever had to steal food, which is probably found in the garbage, from another homeless man because you were so hungry? Have you ever had to spend winter nights on your knees with wet socks, begging for someone to toss you a quarter? What good is morality when it serves you nothing? What good is morality when your stomach has been empty for three days? What good is morality if the people you live around disregard the laws? If you still think you’re doing the right thing and serving a higher purpose by being ‘moral’ on the streets, chances are you’ll be betrayed, robbed, and probably killed in no time. You’re the stupid one if you choose to cling to such an idea.”

I stood there, taken aback at the sudden outburst. The homeless man kept his eye contact, breathing slightly heavily from the strain of his monologue.

The moment of tension was cut by the sound of a ding.

“One bacon, egg, and cheese on a roll with hot sauce and ketchup ready to go!”