This is almost two years old.
Friday night (really Saturday morning, around 3:15) after work, I walked to the car. I always walk to the car, but this time I was walking to a different parking garage (it's cheaper) and it doesn't have a tunnel going from the second floor of International Tower to the car. That's okay with me, because it increases my chance of fucking with a crackhead.
So I am wearing some worn out jeans and one of my gray army hoodies that has some paint stains on it. I've also got on a backpack. As I am walking down the street toward the parking garage, I get stopped by a crackhead that ran across the street to get to me. You know, lonely white boy in downtown Atlanta must be looking for junk, coke, and/or weed.
So this guy...Let's call him Myrle. So Myrle comes running up to me and asks where I'm from. I tell him "here" and go about my business. He asks me, "Here, where, man?" So I say, "Here as in down the street. I sleep under the overpass most nights, but sometimes I find other places to crash."
Myrle looks confused now. Myrle wants to know why he hasn't seen me before. I tell him I've been away for a while and he asks how I got into the towers (they lock everyone out after 8pm) and I tell him I know someone that works there and lets me crash with them every now and then if I help him out some.
Myrle gets a little excited and starts asking questions (we're getting closer to the garage too) like, "What's his name? What kind of shit he have you do? You just clean and cut grass and shit?" and I tell him, "Nah, nothing like that. I just share some of my knowledge with him and he gives me a place to sleep, bathe, and wash my clothes. He even gave me these."
So Myrle is all, "Knowledge? What you mean you just talk to that mutha fucka and he give you shit?! What's his name?!"
I smile and look at Myrle like the crazy bastard he is and say, "Jesse, but no. You don't know what knowledge is?"
"Yeah I know what knowledge is, but how he get somethin' from it?! That shits free!"
"Come on, you know, 'knowledge' man. Head. I suck his dick a little and he lets me crash with him."
(Blank look of shock)
"What? You never suck a dick for something you want?"
"So he gives you food and clothes and shit for head?"
"That's what he does."
"What's he look like? You think he'd want anything? I got the best weed and coke in Atlanta! Best black tar too!"
"Oh, he's about my height, short hair, kind of brownish blonde, big nose, always wearing a hoodie. Don't fuck with him, though. He's clean."
Then I walked into the parking garage, got into my car, and pulled out. I waved to Myrle as I drove by smiling.
I'm a little upset that I didn't tell him Jesse is a ninja.
For those of you that missed it, I described myself to Myrle, and Jesse Collins is the fake name that I first started using in Korea.