I ain’t never been much good. Ever since I have been grasshopper high I have been in trouble. I wouldn’t go to school, played hooky, talking back—you know, all that sort of thing. As soon as I got old enough I wandered away from home and I have been going ever since. I haven’t been in real trouble, you understand, just little jam once in awhile, like vagrancy, panhandling and maybe a little drunkenness. I ain’t no crook. I just hate being settled down to a daily routine of work and sleep. I don’t own anything and I don’t owe anybody. I never gave a hoot about anybody. I just cared about me and that was all. But what happened the other day changed things for me. I had a good day panhandling down at the corner of third and main. I picked up nine dollars in bills and another two or three dollars in change. I think it was a holiday because people were a little more generous than usual. I was heading over to a bar I saw earlier when I eased up to a young fellow and a woman. I looked over at them from the corner of my eye, wondered if I could pick up a few bits when I saw that they were in real trouble. I slowed down and heard them talking low between them selves. It seemed like they needed money. She was pregnant, they were broke and were desperate for cash to get a bus to the next town were he had a friend who would give him a chance to work. This young man said he would get some money if he had to steal it. She pleaded with him not to do it. In fact, I didn’t want him to do it either. He was an innocent hick and I knew he would get caught. Then it came to me! Just once, I could do a good turn for somebody. This thought made me feel good. The only thing was, how could I do it? I reckoned it would get all sentimental and mushy if I offered them the money and he might get on high horse and refuse the gift. Then, I figured out how to do it. I just went up real quiet like and slipped my hand in his pocket and put the bills in without them even knowing it. I would like to have seen their faces when he reached his hand in his pocket and found the money for the bus. But a cop saw me and came up right afterward and searched me. He allowed I didn’t get anything, but took me in for a fifteen-day rest for attempted pick pocketing. I knew it would do no good to explain. So here I sit in my cell. But I ain’t no crook.
Stories Worth Wiping Your A** With
Whether you're making a deposit at the stank bank, dropping a return at the squat shop, or conducting a brown business meeting, these perfectly timed tales provide the literary fragrance your privacy deserves. F
