Pateince
Sunday evening, whilst on their way to get delicious ice-cream from JP Licks, Ryan and Rebecca were stopped by a man on the street, a homeless man. This homeless man was different than most of the rest though, he was offering something in exchange for money: poetry. The homeless man was somewhat of a poet and had a folder full of sheets of his own original poetry. And not just the same poem, different ones. All typed on nice crinkle-free white paper and even some on fancy orange paper.
The homeless man handed one to Ryan and said “This is my poetry you can take this and share it with your girlfriend.”
“I’m not his girlfriend.” Said Rebecca.
“Yeah she’s more like the sister I never wanted.” Said Ryan.
“Oh all right.” Said the man with no home. “Well I’ll give you this poem, it’s my favorite.”
Ryan glanced down at the paper. “You misspelled ‘patience’.” Said Ryan.
“I did? Ohh man. I wrote this in a hurry.” Said the impatient man with no home. “Well you give me money and I’ll give you my poem.”
“Wouldn’t that be selling?” Asked Rebecca
“I guess so. I’ll sell you my poetry then.” Said the poet with no home.
“Well I don’t have any cash.” Said Ryan, the boy with no cash..
“And neither do I.” Said Rebecca.
“But I’d love to take this poem and read it.” Said Ryan, who is a kind person that cares about others.
“Well it ain’t free!” Screamed the annoyed poet with no home.
“Well nobody is going to buy your poetry if you act like that.” Said Rebecca.
At this point another bystander, let’s call her Eve, came by and listened to what was going on. The man with no home asked her if she wanted to buy some of his poetry and she said she also did not have any cash. The homeless poet became irritated and snatched the orange sheet out of Eve’s hand. Then Eve, Ryan and Rebecca all began to walk away when the poet with no home or patience yelled “How am I ‘pose to pay for all these copies!?”
Upon hearing this the three pedestrians halted and turned 180 degrees back towards the ranting poet with no home, questions had just been raised. How did this man make the copies? Do homeless people go to Kinkos? Are homeless people allowed in Kinkos? Where did he get the money? Why is a homeless man wasting what little change he has to make copies? Why so many copies? Why would he spend extra to get colored paper? Is colored paper really necessary? Did he think it would impress the people he would harass? And if this man did have access to a Kinkos or a computer and printer why in the hell didn’t he spell check?
The world may never know.