It all Starts with an Apple

written sometime in 2006




So – my car gets broken into about every other night. I say "broken into" – but it's more like I leave the doors unlocked and allow them to go through my shit. It's better this way. It saves me money. You'll understand shortly. You see, in my neighborhood it's an unwritten rule that if you leave your car parked out on the street, the covenant house street kids and/or the bums are going to break in. Their favorite approach is to bust out a window, thus I purposely leave my doors unlocked. This benefits both of us. I don't have to pay for a new window; they don't risk cutting themselves and getting skeeze blood inside my car. I guess it benefits me a little more. I don't leave anything in my car of any value. They aren't looking to steal the car – that's become obvious. Every other morning I find my glove compartment open and my maps and paper work scattered around my front seat. They help themselves to the change in my cup holder – well, only the silver stuff. They leave the pennies. I don't blame them. I'm not sure what they're hoping to find. A little money, wallet, maybe a gun, I don't know. But I'm always sure to disappoint and I feel bad about this. You see, I'd like to help them. I have 3 huge trash bags full of NICE clothes in the trunk of my car and every time I see one of those kids sitting on the side of Valero, dirty, sketching and smelling like vomit – I want to offer them some new clothes. At least a clean shirt. But I don't. Why? I'm chicken shit and I don't much trust a junkie. I also don't want to insult or piss them off. I get a flash phobic fear of one of them jumping up and throwing me against the wall, rubbing and dry humping me and yelling, "You don't like my clothes? You think I stink? Take that bitch! All over ya. Uh uh uh uh uh"


Or I just get the feeling they wouldn't be as appreciative as I'd hope. You see, I find real joy in slipping on a fresh shirt smelling of Downy and it really brightens my day. But I don't think my idea of an uplifting moment has any comparison to the feeling of a fresh crack toke or heroin poke. They want money and I'm not giving them my goddamn money. 

But I still want to help.

SO, I've decided to start leaving "treats" for them in my glove compartment. My fantasy is that it's the same bum that continually rummages though my car. I want to help him. Maybe tomorrow night, he'll find a shiny apple in my glove compartment. Next night - a banana. Add some vitamins (they like pills) and maybe a protein bar. He'll learn after a while that these gifts are for him. After a while he'll become healthier. Then I'll start leaving him clothes. Start off with a clean pair of socks. Undies. Work my way up to some collared shirts and so on. Toothbrush. Bar of soap. And when I think he's ready – I'll leave a few blank job applications. He'll fill out a few, brush his teeth, put on a clean shirt maybe drop them off at McDonalds or Burger King. Get's a job. Work hard. Eventually become Assistant Manager. Move out of the lot behind Mary's. Find an efficiency apartment and a girlfriend…

And one day I find a note in my car that reads: Thank You. 

And I'll feel good.

Hey…

shut up.

I know how unrealistic this all is. But I like to dream. When I get inside my car in the morning and notice the missing apple – I'm going to smile and ignore the strange smell and put my fantasy into motion. In reality, know they're making crack bongs out of my apple and maybe using the bathroom in my seat. I know this. But I don't like reality. I like to live inside my head and make up stories. It gives me something to think about while stuck in traffic.