Poop Shute

I have learned two very important lessons tonight.

One: I am a profoundly stupid person. If not stupid then at least profoundly naive.

Two: This one ammends number one; I was a profoundly stupid and/or naive person. Up until about a half hour ago. At this point I have lost all hope in humanity.

Guillermo has pointed out in the past that he doesn't agree with my whole "help everybody and let God sort them out" philosophy.

At this point neither do I.

Tonight, I drove out to my parents house to borrow their vaccuum, because we don't have one, and our carpets are nasty. On my way back in the gate of my complex a seemingly very warm and friendly man approached my car.

"Hey, man, could I possibly get a jump from you? My truck died just over there."

"Sorry, I don't have any cables."

"I got cables man. Please, I can give you a couple hundred dollars. See, I got these horses..."

He proceeds to tell me this long story of these horses in a trailer that he needs to get back home to Casa Grande. One of them is 9 months pregnant, he says, and she could deliver any second, and he's worried about her. The money he offered is petty cash he has that his boss said to use to make sure the horses get home soon. Allthough the story is complicated, he seemed genuine, so I figured 'what the hell.' He was so animated, and had a sense of humor about his predicament that made me believe him. I mean, he actually said "This is how my day has been going."

There's a big clue in his story that should've tipped me off, but I didn't even think about it until later. Anyone catch it? No? Read it again, and then read the next bit for the answer.

Horses gestate for 11 months, not 9. If he really worked on a ranch, as he claimed, he would've known that.

"Let me hop in, it's just a little ways down the road."

I didn't like the idea, but, like I said, he seemed genuine.

So, "a little was down the road" took me from where I live near 48th & Baseline first to 24th Street. Then we go down almost to Broadway, then we turn into a neighborhood, then... Even before Broadway I'm getting really edgy about this. His frank sense of humor fades more and more the further we get. His manner begins to change. The out-going guy I met quickly becomes quiet and shy. Even his gestures when he pointed to where to turn each time seemed more reserved. It was as if he was already imagining doing something horrible to his fellow man and he was already feeling guilty. Or just plain not looking forward to it.

Finally, we come to our destination. He silently points to the driveway of a house.

"There's no truck with any horses here." I said tersely, my voice betraying nothing of the terror welling up in my chest.

"No, no. I gotta get the keys here." He said with that vacant tone that said he was lying.

And with that, he hopped out of the car and trotted into the house. The second he was in the doorway I bolted the fuck out of there like a bat out of hell. I just drove without knowing where the hell I was going. I got my way back to 24th Street without thinking and just fucking drove. Going about sixty until I was nearly in downtown Phoenix.

Eventually I calmed down enough to start heading back home. I was still shaking, but my fear began to change. Soon terror turned to anger. Anger at him. Anger at myself for being such a fucking patsy. While I was still angry I really started to analyze how full of shit this guy really was.

HOW? HOW? How does one get from Broadway and 24th Street to 48th & Baseline when one has a truck at the former location one needs started? That's a good ten mile walk to look for help when one is in such immediate need. And how do the keys and driver and truck all end up in three different locations when there is such an emergency involved?

Congratulations, whoever the hell you are. Way to be the worst con-man ever. Way to ALMOST get my money or car or whatever the hell you wanted. But mostly, way to be the one to finally make me see that strangers don't deserve my trust.

Congratulations on allowing me to justify finally becoming jaded. Some people have to get mugged, or beaten, or raped to learn that lesson. I guess I got off easy.

Lastly, fuck you. I have said it before, and I'll say it again: Disillusionment is a bitch.