Saving the cat

So, at different times during a week I go for private lessons in ground fighting to compliment my main martial arts training. This guy has an interesting background, and has a lot of interesting things to teach. We'll call him "Andy". His normal rate is some insane price, but I managed to snag a special rate I can afford because I had good timing. Essentially, it made me broke to go to him as well as my other training, but its a sacrifice I made. It’s helped me, allot actually. After being with him a few months, I've become a friend of his.

Since I'm a friend, he's constantly talking to me about his business and how he hopes to get rich. I listen, because I like the guy and its what you do when your with someone you care for. However, its become apparent to me that he's a real opportunist. He's constantly trying to sell himself in conversation to me and anyone he speaks to. Its tiring, and is a damper on any real feelings I have of friendship at times.

Then, there’s one of his students. We'll call him "James". James is a really cool guy. I like James. He's a famous model and seems to have had everything fall into place fairly quickly. Actually, in record time. He's literally skyrocketed to fame and fortune in an extremely short amount of time.

I'm starting out in the same business, and its fucking hard. Your body has to be in incredible shape, and mines not there yet. Plus, James is down to earth and is a genuinely nice guy. So, I respect the guy and am glad he has his success. I'm not the jealous type, and it makes me happy to hear that a good guy has some great things happen to him.

However, I'm also a guy who’s trying to make it on his own whose dirt fucking poor. So, its hard to hear about how great James is doing every time I go there. Which is exactly what happens. See, James brings lots of money to Andy. Andy likes money. So, Andy is really happy. Really happy. Today, this fucker went on for what seemed like an hour about how James is flying to Madrid, and Milan, and meeting all these famous people who will further his career. Here's our conversation how I remember it. I think it went something like this...

Andy: So, its just a wild time for him. He just met (insert tons of names of famous people here). In fact, they like him so much he's been accepted into a famous acting group...they say he's a genius.

Biff: Oh wow, that's great. James really deserves it. He met so and so? Is she as pretty as in the movies?

Andy: Even more! And James already fucked her! Did I mention they say he's a legendary genius (No bullshit, he actually used these two words). Right now he's flying to Europe. Let me call him.

"James, how ya doing buddy? Oh good, good. No, I'm just training with one of the guys. Oh yeah? Your going rock climbing? Then your going out to some fancy restaurant and going to fuck a bunch of models while snorting blow off their chest? You rock! Whose here? Just Biff. Fuck him, he can wait...so go on".

So, after he finished his conversation he resumed talking about James.

Andy: He's going rock climbing now as he flies all around. Did I mention he's going to get half a million for this new modeling campaign?

Biff: Wow, uh that’s great. Uh, that reminds me...can I check the fold of your couch for change? I don't know if I have enough to make the train.

Andy: Of course you can't. Did I mention that he'll be in movies by next year and he's actually 2 years younger then you! Boy, he rocks and you suck!

Biff: Uh...

Andy: Let me go get his notes from acting class and show you the names of all the famous people he's improving with while you wallow in mediocrity (He actually did this).

So, you get the idea. I know Andy didn't do it with any malice, but fuck...it was hard listening to all that without feeling a tiny bit worthless. I'm happy for the guy. But Jesus Christ...get a fucking clue. I must have said "wow, that’s great" a dozen fucking times.

Anyhow, I left feeling pretty shitty and a little scared because I have nothing to fall back upon and I chose this career. As I waited for the elevator, I went through my pockets looking for my metro card and full amount of cash (a whopping 5 dollars). Couldn't find it. All the way down, I looked in every pocket. Its not there. So, I counted the change I had on me. Something like 55 cents.

It hurt to do that because I boxed for three fucking hours on Tuesday without any hand wraps...literally can't afford them, just the gloves. Suppose I could buy them but if I do I should buy shin guards and a ton of other shit that I don't have the cash for now. Not that it matters, because the place where I go says hand wraps are for pussies...that’s really fucking bright, eh? The result is my knuckles are all bruised and cut up. Hard to open my hands.

So, I'm going through my pockets while muttering "fuck". I decide that my card and $5 must have slipped out in Andy’s house. I press the button to go back up and I find the card and money in some hidden pocket I have. Good, so I was just being neurotic and worried. I press the elevator to go back down.

This big burly motherfucker gets on. The scariest looking motherfucker in Brooklyn. He looked like he had just gotten out of jail and had spent his entire sentence lifting weights and fucking smaller inmates. I think he was the building janitor because he had a lot of shit on a cart with him.

For some reason, I sensed he was feeling as shitty as me. So, I started a conversation on our 5 floor trip down.

Biff: *motions to the guys cart* Lots of stuff.

BBM: Yeah...

Biff: One of those days, eh?

BBM: Oh yeah, exactly.

Biff: Me too...I wish it would end already.

BBM: Yeah...but you can't wish it away-

Biff: You gotta deal with it, right?

BBM: Yeah.

*Awkward silence*

BBM: I hope your day gets better.

Biff: Thanks man, you too.

BBM: Take it easy.

Biff: Be cool.

So, that was a nice little moment. Sometimes I think God sees me going through some shitty moment and says, "That won't do. Don't send him anything big, just some big burly fucker who sympathizes with his moment of weakness, it'll help him make it to the subway".

Anyhow, I start walking and the rain is fucking pouring down. That's ok though. I got my five bucks, enough to get a lunch special at this shitty Chinese restaurant I go to. And, I got my metro car with $2 left on it. Enough to take the hour trip home. Sure, I walk the mile to the station, but I enjoy walking.

As I'm walking through the downpour, I see this little cat that may have been a kitten. It’s standing in the front of some dilapidated buildings yard (This part of Brooklyn I am in is a fucking shithole). It’s crying nonstop, to no one in particular. It sees me and starts to cry in my direction.

I walk up to it and didn't realize how soaked it was till I touched it, soaked to the bone. It won't stop crying, and I'm thinking I got to get this cat to shelter. I figure the door in front of me is its home. I bang on the door, nothing. Cat keeps crying, rains coming down. I bang again, louder. Still no answer. I keep banging and this thousand year old woman opens the door with a scowl and the cat darts inside. I say "your cat" and she lets out a big smile and shuts the door.

So, the way I figure it is if I was the rich guy on the plane to Madrid right now, the one with all the movie contacts, the one snorting blow off models chest while I slam fucked them...I wouldn't have been able to save that little cat.

It all evens out I guess.