Congratulations on Buying Those Kids the Bartles and James They Need!

“Please…”

His eyes will be wide as he looks up at you.  Big doe eyes, puppy dog eyes, eyes that beg for your assistance.  You won’t be able to say no to those eyes.  So you’ll put your palm out without a word and look him dead in the face.

He’ll put money into your palm and, without a word, you’ll walk into the convenience store holding his twenty dollars and you’ll locate two of the fruitiest Bartles and James flavors you can find.  Then you’ll pay for them, still without a word, and step back out into in front of the store with a dollar and nineteen cents change in your pocket.

You’ll gingerly place the bags on the ground and then nod at the young man, who will, in turn, nod back.  He’ll pick up the bags and return to his friends who, standing a short distance away, will have been watching you the whole while.  When he exposes the contents of the bags to them, they’ll erupt into a cheering slurry of humanity.

The children will begin chanting their name for you, which is Beardo.  It’s not your real name, which no one in the town you settled into knows.  But it’s good enough for a homeless man who sits outside the convenience store with a beard, a homeless man who has never been included in the community until today.  It’s good enough because when they say Beardo, what they’ll mean is “hero,” and it feels good to be a hero, even if it’s just for the fifteen minutes before some crackhead pays you fifteen dollars to kill his girlfriend’s cat with a brick.

Congratulations on Buying Those Kids the Bartles and James They Need!