Drunks
I was sitting at home applying aloe vera to my splotches of sun burn, [Read: Mandee's sunburn] when there was a knocking on my front door. Thinking it was the gents downstairs looking to move a car, I casually unlock the door.
In walks a very drunk black man who thought he was at a friend's house. First he asked for a glass of water. Having been in his state before, I felt obliged to help a brother out. I gave him a glass of water. He claimed it was hot. Maybe I had accidentally used the warm water since I seemed to have a preference for left side faucets.
After handing him a second glass of water, and he refusing it because it was too hot, I told him I was heading for bed. [Having read in the targum of recent attacks on youths in houses, I had at this point taken stock of the dish rack that contained my large vegetable knife] I suggested he should leave. He asked for a shot.
A shot, I think? Indeed, as much as I want this man to leave, he certainly has no right to my alcohol. In fact, what would happen to the world? Could I start showing up at other people's houses expecting shots at midnight? I don't think so. Then I realized he was pointing to the bottle of Olive Oil.
I offer him the olive oil, explaining the situation: he wanted 2 oz. of liquid fat. He left. I locked the deadbolt and the door.
In walks a very drunk black man who thought he was at a friend's house. First he asked for a glass of water. Having been in his state before, I felt obliged to help a brother out. I gave him a glass of water. He claimed it was hot. Maybe I had accidentally used the warm water since I seemed to have a preference for left side faucets.
After handing him a second glass of water, and he refusing it because it was too hot, I told him I was heading for bed. [Having read in the targum of recent attacks on youths in houses, I had at this point taken stock of the dish rack that contained my large vegetable knife] I suggested he should leave. He asked for a shot.
A shot, I think? Indeed, as much as I want this man to leave, he certainly has no right to my alcohol. In fact, what would happen to the world? Could I start showing up at other people's houses expecting shots at midnight? I don't think so. Then I realized he was pointing to the bottle of Olive Oil.
I offer him the olive oil, explaining the situation: he wanted 2 oz. of liquid fat. He left. I locked the deadbolt and the door.
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