A Guy Named Bob
I glanced down at my watch as I waited for my ride and by the time I looked up, Bob was standing in front of me. Bob had done me a small service that took roughly the amount of time that I’d spent glancing down and making a note of the hour. By the time I’d seen midnight on the dial, Bob had shooed away a wild-eyed, homeless man who who came bounding across the street and was about to hit me up for money, point out where he lived, and warn me of the impending apocalypse; or at least in the millisecond that it all happened, that’s what I think he was attempting to do. Bob calmly told the gentleman “hey, wut-chew botherin’ deze fellas for? Wut dey done to you? Go on down da street and bodder sommin’ eltse” . Bob looked at me for a moment then continued scanning the ground for plastic bottles and metal cans. He had on a large backpack and carried a garbage bag full of cans over his shoulder and it was clear that he’d not seen an easy life in a good, long, while; if ever. Bob con