Rough Proof of SMILE, HON No. 11 Complete

Now if people would only stop slinging feces at me from every direction - which reminds me of an encounter I once had on Greene Street...

The intersection of Greene and West Fayette Streets is rife with material, particularly given its close proximity to a) the VA hospital; b) a methadone clinic; c) "World Famous" Lexington Market, the vicinity of which is favored by some entrepreneurial spirits for re-sale of their dose of methadone; and d) the University of Maryland School of Law, just to make things interesting.

One day, while walking south on Greene Street, I encountered a lively chap deeply engaged in conversation with himself.

"You might be my friend," he announced to no one apparent, "but you are definitely NOT my friend!"

Remembering my manners, I hung back a few paces, so as not to interrupt the conversation. "You might be my friend," he repeated, though this time with greater urgency, "but you are DEFINITELY NOT my friend!"

As we neared the light at Baltimore Street, the man threw his arms in the air. "What is it?" he declared as he stopped at the curb. "Monkey shit is what it is. It's all monkey shit!"

Indeed, I nodded inwardly, as I came to a standstill alongside him. "No!" he announced, shifting tack. "It's, it's APE shit! APE SHIT is what it is!" And with that, he abruptly turned to face me, and, staring me straight in the eye, posited, "And what kinda job that sound like to you - scrapin' together a coupla' poundsa' APE SHIT?!"

But alas, before I could find out how much the job paid, he had bounded off into the cross traffic of Baltimore Street.