Today, as I was walking into to my front gate I got panhandled by an older black man:
Panhandler: Say, my brutha. Could I bother you for a moment.
Me: Um, sure.
Panhandler: Now, I’m not trying to hit you up for any money.
Me: Ok.
Panhandler: But, you see. I’ve been walking all the way from Canal Street and I’ve got a ways to go, ya see. Now [he lifts his foot] can you see I’ve got this hole in my shoe. [points to foot, through hole in shoe.]
Me: Yes.
Panhandler: My feet are soaked to the bone. Now, I don’t want any money, but…
Me: [Wait for it.... .... busfare... say it... busfare...]
Panhandler:… do you have a clean pair of socks?
Me: (?!) Um. [I then realize I have to do laundry and spent an hour last night unsuccessfully looking for a clean pair of socks for myself.] I don’t have any clean ones. I can give you some dry ones though.
PanhandlerSockfootler: Oh. Now, I ain’t saying you gots nasty dirty feet or nothin’, but you don’t have any clean ones?
So what’s the resolution? Did he hit you up for money for socks? And why would he think you had socks with you? Were you on your porch?
LOL. Damn picky for a panhandler, don’t you think?
That’s a Sockfootler, Jason. :)
yeah, I didn’t have anything clean so he got NOTHING. No sock for you! Two week!
hell, if it were me lookin for a pair o’ socks, i wudda said, ‘tha’s ok, i’ll jest sit raght down here and wait til you finish that thar laundry and git me a CLEAN pair o’ socks!’ – bwahahahahahahaha