Homeless, the care and feeding of

Bo relieved himself against the side of the tree with great gusto. It had been a long ride on the bus and his “bladder gauge” had spent the last two hours in the red.

“Hey buddy, what do you think you’re doing?” the undercover cop was used to seeing the local homeless “watering” the trees in Central Park. This was a little different. The offender didn’t seem to be homeless; he was well dressed, albeit in coveralls, and had a shiny new suitcase with him. He had also made an interesting selection with regards to location, having chosen a decorative plastic tree in the hotel lobby as opposed to those elsewhere which may have offered a little more privacy.

Bo considered the question carefully before replying, “What do you mean?”

“You can’t do that in here. That’s what I mean,” replied the officer.

Bo, once again, thought about the officer’s comment. He knew he could do ‘it’ here because he had, in fact, just accomplished the task. Again, he asked, “What do you mean?”

“Okay fella, if you’re going to give me trouble, I’m going to take you in.”

Bo looked around the lobby. They were already ‘in’. City folk sure were strange. This guy must be one of those crazed homeless people he had heard about. Maybe this guy was just babbling.

Bo held up his hand indicating he needed a moment. He pulled out his guide book and turned to the chapter entitled “Care and Feeding of New York City’s Homeless”.

He read, “No matter what, do not give them money. What they really need is food.”

Bo reached into his back pocket and pulled out a large ear of corn. He placed it into the speechless officer’s hand, then turned and headed out into the big city.

Word count 300