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The Past | The Previous

New Levels of Being an Asshole

There was a knock on my door, five minutes ago. It had a tune, this knock, that quick series of first knocks, followed by a final third.

When I opened the door, a kid with a shaved head was standing there. When I say kid, I mean he was, I don't know, fifteen, sixteen, and when I mean a shaved head, I mean he was bald, that kind of bald you get from luekemia. "Hey bro, how you going," he said to me, this kid with leukemia.

"I'm alright, man."

"I see you in the shops, yeah, bro?"

Diseases aside, there was something about this kid that was just annoying. I was fairly sure it had everything to do with his repeated us of the word bro in the five seconds we had been face to face.

"I don't think so."

"Sure, bro--"


"Yeah," I interrupted. "What you want?"

He was leaning against my door, arms wide, giving off the sense of being friendly with everyone, and when he spoke, I could see that his teeth had lots of gaps, and he had one lazy eye. He was skinny, a lanky kid, and I thought, maybe all luekemia kids are ugly like this.

"Bro, I'm wondering if you'll let me wash and vacuum your car."

To be fair, I didn't start thinking that until he said his next lines.

"See, I got no job, no place to live, no family because they live far away, and I need the money, so would you let me do this?"

The thing the ruined it for him, was that he was well dressed. In fact, for a luekemia kid begging at my doorstep, he was better dressed than I was. I though it kind've ruined the down and out image that he was trying to put forward, and that, coupled with his repeated use of the word bro, and just a general annoyance in him personally, say me say no, I didn't want him to do that. Like all people at your doorstep, however, be they Mormons, Jehovahs Witnesses, or people who want to sell you electricity plans from electrical companies you've never seen, kids with luekemia also don't take no for an answer, and he started up again.

"No, man," I said, cutting him off. "You have a nice day."

He hung his head at that. Literally, too, and he let out a loud sigh that clearly implied I was an asshole, and maybe I was, but I guess I'll live with it.



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Oct. 20th, 2008 09:51 pm (UTC)
ha ha! love it.

In the first few months of me being going through chemo, a young guy knocked at the door collecting for Bowel Cancer research. I told him that I actually had bowel cancer, was no longer working, and had given enough to bowel cancer already. He was a little taken aback, probably didn't believe me (I didn't have my big scar then as it was pre-surgery but I showed him where the portacath was in my chest but I'm guessing he had no fucking clue what that was), and then he asked if I'd like to give some money anyway. I laughed and shut the door.
Oct. 21st, 2008 01:24 pm (UTC)

i guess they don't really prepare you for that in door knocking school. though i must admit, after i'm cruel, i always feel a little guild, cause most are just trying to earn some cash--but i hate being bothered at home. if i want something, i'll go out and fine it.
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