David was getting hungry when his train of though was severly interupted.
“Give me your money!”
David turned to see a shoddy-looking man with a gun pointed at his face.
“I’m not asking again,” the man said.
“I-I don’t have any money,” David stammered.
“You expect me to belive that?” The man shook his handgun for emphasis. “A yuppie like you doesn’t have any money?”
David was struck by the word “yuppie.” He thought this vagrant was in his early twenties, but that word felt like something a fifty year old would say.
“You don’t have a wallet?” The man brought him back to reality.
“Oh, you mean any kind of money.” David pulled out his wallet. “I’ve got a couple of credit cards. I was thinking cash. I guess that was stupid.”
“Yeah, it was stupid,” the man said, grabbing the wallet. “This looks like a check-card. What’s your passcode?”
“I guess you would want that. Hold on.” David put his hand up with an index finger out.
“You don’t remember?”
“This is how I remember.” David poked at imaginary ATM keys in the air. “1-3-7-9.”
The man stared at him for a second.
“You’re an idiot.”
“Hey, I’m not the one who has to mug people for money.”
“I’m industrious. You’re just a sucker.”
David really wanted to set this man straight about what it meant to be truly industrious. Getting a job. Working hard. Not relying on violence to get what you want. But, he decided to let it go, since the man had a gun and was clearly getting agitated.
Then, he remembered something.
“Hey, do you mind if I keep my drivers license?”
“You’re asking me for favors?” the man asked.
“I don’t think it’s out of line. I gave you my cards and my passcode. What good is the license?”
“I can sell it to someone as a fake ID.”
Hmm, maybe he was industrious. “You don’t seem like the salesman type.”
“What are you, my guidance counselor?”
“Look,” David tried to reason with the man. “I’m just trying to avoid a trip to the DMV. I mean, have a heart. You’re taking all my money. I’m going to have to call all of these credit cards and have them canceled. Don’t make me go down and wait in that line.”
“I could pop you right now,” the man said, holding the gun up for emphasis, “and make sure you don’t get a chance to cancel anything.”
David thought about this for a moment.
“Okay,” he sighed. “Please don’t kill me. I’ll just go to the DMV.”
The man laughed.
“I’m just fucking with you, dude.” He handed David’s license to him. “I’m not that kind of monster.”
The man laughed again and ran off.
David stood there, with his license in his hand, thinking about what had just happned, wondering if it was real, dreading the phone calls it was going to take to put his life back in order, and getting depressed at the realization that he was only one sandwich away from a freebie at the grocery store and his rewards card was gone forever.
He was still hungry.