Biographical Non-Fiction posted November 24, 2021

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Payback for generosity: scrawl on the wall pending?

Lose that Number: Please!

by Elizabeth Emerald

The author has placed a warning on this post for language.

They say no good deed goes unpunished.

Of course, such blanket assertions as pertain to this and other "truisms" are exaggerations. Most good deeds go, at worst, unnoticed, if not rewarded.

That said, the exceptions can be outrageous.

My regular readers are continually appalled to learn of the blatant opportunists who shamelessly avail themselves of my friend Scott's charity.

Move over, Scott and take your blood-sucking side-kicks with you: The tale my daughter just told me tops all. 

Two years ago this month, an acquaintance-in-weedship, spying my daughter on our stoop, came over to share a toke. 

His mother had just thrown him out, John told Lauren, and asked if he could stay the night.

Lauren, put on the spot, came inside to ask me. She was rightfully leery of John, who lived three doors down. It was known in the neighborhood that he'd been in jail for assaulting his father, as well as for drug offenses. I didn't -- still don't -- want to know for whatever else.

Nonetheless, Lauren felt sympathy for John; he had always been pleasant toward us -- notwithstanding which, she feared he might retaliate should we refuse him.

We allowed him stay over, provided he leave in the morning when Lauren departed for work.

He stayed a second night, same conditions.

Lauren, stressed about the situation, put John up for two nights in an hourly-rate motel -- much to the consternation of the desk clerk, who'd never before had occasion to determine a fair price for an overnight stay.

They settled on one hundred bucks per night, on top of which Lauren handed John a pair of twenties.

After the two days were up, we let John stay at our house one last night. (After which he presumably bounced around amongst those unfortunate few who responded to his solicitations for shelter.)

Before John departed our house, I offered him a triple-decker tuna sandwich, then sent him off with a sack of granola bars and chips and such. 

John would spend his days in Dunkin' Donuts, texting Lauren daily for a "loan." She'd meet him there and give him a twenty. 

After a week had gone by, Lauren had a flare of Multiple Sclerosis symptoms. She told John she was flat out sick -- and broke -- and couldn't help him anymore.

As John came to realize Lauren would no longer take the bait, he eventually stopped texting. We were relieved when he drifted away after his mother sold the house to get out of Dodge.

This morning, Lauren got a text from her friend Liana, who said she'd received a text from John, a former classmate, who was randomly fishing. He wondered whether Liana was still in touch with anyone from high school.  

Liana, unaware of their connection, offered up her close friend: Lauren.

John texted:

That bitch threw me out on the street, without a dime. A fine way to repay me: I would give her line of coke, just for sucking my dick.

* * * * * * 

I shudder to contemplate what he might have written on the men's room wall.

for good blow for good blow
call Lauren at --- --- ----  



The Great Escape in B&W by MoonWillow on THANK YOU!
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