Bald-head Maurice

I went to get some Burger King this afternoon because I was hung over and in need of some greasy hangover food. Nothing hits the spot quite like a double cheeseburger and a large Dr. Pepper with greasy french fries after waking up at noon with cottonmouth and a pounding "jackhammer-to-the-brain" headache. My problem is that the closest BK is on the border of a pretty crappy neighborhood, which means the service sucks and there can be some unpleasant characters about. But with the price of gas these days, it's better to brave the ghetto than it is to drive way out of my way for fatty hangover food.

After waiting about 10 minutes in the drive-through (with nobody else in line, keep in mind) I finally get my food. As I'm pulling out, I see a dude in the crosswalk. I can tell he's waiting for me to pull up so he can talk to me. You know the dude. Grimy clothes; backpack is worn and tattered; he's skinny, but muscular from a life on the street. I figure, what the hell, and roll down the window to get the sales pitch.

"People thinks I'm a crackhead because I gots no eyebrows and I'm bald."

"Hey buddy, I never said that."

"I tell you what, I ain'ts gonna lie, I'm hungry, man. If you gots any change you can spare, I could sure use it. I ain'ts gonna spend it on no crack rock or anything, only food. I ain'ts gonna be stealin' from nobody, so I gots to ask people like you, y'know."

"I hear ya, man. I've got a few bucks change here, go grab yourself something."

As I'm getting my wallet from the center console and pulling out the three singles I had as change, he continues to talk.

"I wents to church today. Aks'd them if theys had any money or food theys could give me. Theys says no, but I sees that collection plate go by and it's full of money and I sees that pastor's big house behind the church. But I ain'ts gonna steal from God or nobody else. The world's fucked up, man."

At this point I can't help but think of my boy Steve going off on a remarkably similar tangent about pastors and collection plates just last night at the bar. I hand him the $3.

"God bless you, man! What's you name?"

"God bless you too. Name's Maki."

"Maggie? Ain'ts that a girl's name?"

"Nah. It's Maki. M-A-K-I. And don't go insulting the guy who just gave you some cash, c'mon, man!"

"Ok, ok, thass a new name I ain'ts never heard before. You a good man, Maki. I'm Bald-head Maurice!"

He rubs his head for emphasis of the name.

"You stay strong, Maurice."

"You too, my's main, main, man, Maki!"

He gives me the fist-bump with his calloused knuckles and steps back, smiling. I sneak a glance in the rear-view to see the guy behind me. He's looking fairly annoyed since Maurice is waiting for him to pull up after me. I turn right. I watch the guy blow right by Maurice only seconds later, making a left without even slowing down or looking at the street to see if it's clear. I continue on my way, taking a glance back at Maurice in the mirror. I see him go in the front door of the Burger King and my cynical heart feels a little better about things. I turn up "Beautiful Day" on the stereo and leave the windows down, smiling the rest of the way home.