I Don't Want To Live Like A Refugee

On Sunday Dorian was late for coffee. After paying for my brew and chatting up the worker girls, I eyed the outside patio nervously. There was a homeless man sitting right next to the spot I wanted. I fretted that he would make me uncomfortable, and that I would have to get up and sit inside. After deciding that the chances of contact were slim, I took a deep breath and walked outside.

"You should come and sit here next to me," he told me. I respectfully declined. "I know I don't stink because I just took a shower," he insisted. I told him I was waiting for a friend. "FRICKIG HRA HRA WOODISKAKI CHINGA JANG JANG SEEN WITH SOMEONE LIKE ME!" he replied, then got up and left.

Dorian didn't believe me when I told him what'd happened. "Wait," he said, "YOU made HIM so uncomfortable that he abandoned his fucking cup of coffee?"