Et Tu

 

Et Tu (Randyjw; June 1, 2017)

 

I was still seated in the lobby of the homeless shelter past midnight, last night, necessitated by the fact that the vicious girls within the shelter were still continuing their attack against me. They took my charger spot on the wall by my mat, which had specifically been arranged to accommodate me by the staff, following the previous fiasco of favoritism denying me the same courtesy. It was a hypothetical fix, after all.

 

This phone battery, being unwell, takes a long time to charge. I was in the lobby ’til about just past midnight, I think. The theory was flawed in not accounting for the human mentality of a mean mob, acting like a feeding frenzy of animals eliminating the weak.

 

This paid phone breaks through the walls and can make and receive calls inside the shelter. Our free “Obamaphones” do not have the same capacity — no calls can be made. But, this phone will expire either on or after June 3rd, when I can no longer pay the bills.

 

The cancer patient needed me to stay here at the soup kitchen to allow her to use my phone, especially today. I don’t even want to be here, but I’m doing it just for her — especially during these past two days.

 

Last evening, our beds were separated by her duffel bag. I apologized to her in the event that I may have inadvertently leaned on it. She said I should really be sorry for having snored. Right. Every time in this shelter I’m probably last to fall asleep, because the same rude accusers snore like freight trains keeping me awake (I’m a light sleeper and often awake, anyways). I do snore when I’m very tired and have a lack of sleep. So, some bodily function I don’t even know I’m doing, she attacks. Yeah, the same girl using my phone; the same girl I helped, through the American Cancer Society, to arrange the ride to her doctor’s appointments. The same girl who was in the room laying on one of the two mats beneath the shared phone outlet, who must’ve seen the culprit who placed their phone’s cord into my designated space and stayed “mum”. Et tu, “M”?

 

Some two of the continued perpetrators, “H” of the hissyfit, and “D” of the smarmy victory photo smile, made sure to cut me in line to the soup kitchen, where I’d been waiting a full half-hour prior. “D” was there before me, but “H” arrived a full half-hour later, practically elbowing her way to the front of the line.

 

Oh. Now I see “M” got the nerve to ask someone else to use their phone. She hasn’t even faced me to let me know she may not need my help, after all. She fits right in with the mannerisms of the rest of the people whose religion she adopted.

 

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