“Spare some change?” What’s gonna happen when nobody has cash? Should I start carrying old electronics, cans, and other pawnables in my purse? Needy, scammer, angel in disguise – figuring that out is a test all on its own.
Speaking of angels and scams.
If I give an angel cash, do I get it back since our encounter is technically a fantasy? Can the money be a down payment on my heavenly mansion?
WWJD in this situation? I think it’s important for people to feel seen. Just lock eyes and let your gaze slowly travel down their body. Don’t picture people as they are but as they can be.
Our lover’s pancake booty can’t compete with no Blue Checkmark IG thot – but we fake a lusty gaze ‘cause Jesus wants people to feel seen.
I apologise for not having cash and resume snoozing.
Ever walk into a fart so musty and thick that you sprain your wrist trying to fan the air? Well, I couldn’t sleep because his stench feels like an impenetrable wall. I open my eyes and this guy is just hovering over me. Unwashed. Heavy breathing.
I should stay awake but trains rock and rumbling have me like a baby in a buggy. Yes, it smells like pissy semen, but the cosy factor – mmm!
Since I can’t resist, I just zip my purse, loop the straps and knock on wood. And by that I mean, involuntarily bang my head against the plexiglass divider.
He’s hovering and staring. Maybe he didn’t hear me. I tell him I ain’t got no money and he responds, “Yeah, I know. Can I have a hug?”
A hug? A H U G?? Ain’t no hobo ever asked for a hug. Most don’t even want food, but he asking for a hug? Susss-picious.
The joke is on him if he tryna’ sneak-steal my wallet. Women’s wallets are too big for most pockets – some don’t even fit into our purses.
Talmbout WhATt wOUld JeSUs dO? He ain’t never hugged no – gah! I let out an audible sigh. What? Name one person – besides Jesus – who is itching to hug a hobo? I’ll wait.
My hug channels love and positivity into his body. (If you’re doing the Lord’s dirty work right, do it all the way. The last thing you want is to half hug a hobo and fumble The Kingdom bag™. )
Nine Mississippi. Ten Mississippi. Get off me. I opened my eyes to see this fool coming in for a kiss!
“No!” I slid my hand between our faces. “You can’t kiss me. What is wrong with you?”
“But you’re so pretty.” Aw, there he go talking all slick. Well, tough tiddies – the love spell is broken. I’d quicker turn this into a Worldstar bum fight – don’t care how many mansions on the line.
Shout out to the low-tech savvy angels collecting karmic donations via GoFundMe. No one should have to hug sinful mortals – unhoused or not.
Award-winning Caribbean comedian, Onicia Muller regrets leaving St. Maarten for windy Chicago. Her weekly humour column, Just Being Funny is chicken soup for the naive sceptic’s soul. Join her newsletter for funny stories and stand-up comedy. OniciaMuller.com/JBF