I spotted a homeless guy bothering some older tourists on the beach.
Why the fuck is he bothering them, I think I’ll tell him to leave them alone… idiot…
he’s as dirty as a pig.
“You’re as dirty as a pig,” I heard next to me.
The kiosk man was passing me my beer.
“Yes, I know, thanks!” I took the beer and checked myself. I tried to clean it but it wasn’t really working. Meanwhile, the homeless dude had begun bothering some other people, they were sitting next to me, talking. Shit, in a few moments he’ll get to me, I should get going…
“You want another one, son?” Again, I didn’t catch how he exactly called me.
The homeless man was looking in my direction, he was hardly standing, had a huge shit spot on the back of his pants, and it looked like he hadn’t taken a shower for at least a couple years.
He was skinny but his arms were full of scars and muscles. He came up to me…
“How ya doin’, all right?”
“Sure,” I cracked open the beer can and took a swig.
“Can I have some, I’m thirsty…” I glanced at the can and then his mouth, which reeked.
“Of course, have some…” I gave him the can.
“Hey, amigo, gimme another one,” you old, gray idiot, I thought to myself.
“Here it is, son…” I was looking at him, he was looking at me. I grabbed the new can and opened it. I was losing the last remains of my strength, so I drank it down in one gulp. Without any other words I promptly received another one. Everything was starting to look much better.
“So you fight, huh?” the homeless man asked. I contemplated the question for a moment and then truthfully answered yes. He began doing steps and thrusts in front of me. He told me that he used to teach Kung Fu. Years of drinking hadn’t robbed him of it, even at this stage he still had the MOVES.
He sat down next to me and said:
“When I was a boy, I spotted a girl from a neighboring village, beautiful as a picture.”
Shit, now he’ll start telling me the story of his life.
“I went to see her and told her she was beautiful. It was about a hundred miles from here, up in the mountains. Back then, I was living with my seven brothers in a three by ten feet brick hut, in the middle of the jungle. When I returned, everybody was laughing at me. I lay down in the corner, rolled myself up into a ball, and fell asleep. I was happy. The next day, when I saw her, she smiled at me.
I was happy, she was thirteen, I was fifteen. I went to see her again and asked her if she wanted me. She smiled and said yes. I went to see her dad in a village nearby and told him I wanted his daughter.
He told me I had to be nice to her. And from that time we lived together.
I’d work in the forest, teach Kung Fu, which I learned from books, in the evenings, and come home late. We were happy. When I’d come home late at night, she’d always smile at me, stroke my cheeks, and sing me beautiful songs.
She always had dinner ready, even when bad times came and there was nothing to eat and hunger was everywhere. I’d buy her beads in the market behind the village, and sometimes I even ventured to the city, to get dishes, fans for her dresses, and parrot feathers just for decoration. Then, one day, I came home and she told me not to be angry but that she had a headache and couldn’t be with me.
After that she had headaches more and more often, pretty much all the time when I got home she had one, but she’d take a pill and it’d go away. I was begging her to see a doctor, but she wouldn’t listen to me. She said the pills helped ease the pain.”
He looked at me and said: “You know, I lost what I loved the most in life.”
I was fixated on him.
“She died three years ago, I lost the thing I loved the most in life.”
He gave me a long stare once more then walked away.
I felt bad… what kind of prick am I, I had wanted to tell him to stop bothering some fucking stupid tourists…
I had one more beer to collect some strength and went home. That night I was really tired but couldn’t fall asleep. I finally fell asleep in the morning when the birds were already singing.
They kept singing the same song over and over again. So, I eventually got up, made myself a cup of coffee and watched the lake and mountains from our balcony. The rowers were already out on the lake, again.
They always are.
The sky was dark blue, as blue as it could be, the bright white statue of Jesus against the blue sky and on top of the dark wooded hill looking like the greatest kitsch picture one could imagine.