Pawn Takes King, Part 1

This book is dedicated to eBaumsworld. This website is, without a doubt, one of the most depraved, and unruly group of weirdoes ever assembled together. And I'm proud to be one among my fellow freaks. Here's to you, eBaumers!!!
    (Oh, and thanks to fuzzywuzzy666, too. Much respect, bro)

    Donald stood by the stoplight, holding the cardboard sign. "Homeless, anything helps," was written in crude black marker. A fat dude pulled up beside him at the red light.  He was a real porker, and he was bald. By the looks of the Chrysler Lebaron the guy drove, Donald figured the guy was pretty hard up for cash. But he didn't look to be starving. The fat bastard is eating at the stoplight. A cheeseburger is being devoured by the obese man, and it is getting caught in his goatee, and connecting mustache. Donald is conflicted between disgust at this gross, fat specimen, and getting famished by looking at the sandwich. Heat rolled off the burger, steaming white in the sunshine peering in through the LeBaron glass. Donald's stomach churned with hunger. A cheeseburger never looked so beautiful. It was like a professional camera crew set up the lighting just right, for the perfect glimpse of that tasty sandwich.
    The high fat content of fast food actually proved beneficial for Donald. It was sometimes a long wait between meals, and any meat he could put on his bones was advantageous. He had a Mcfood bag beside him, with a half-eaten burger still inside. It was cold and Donald had no way of heating it up. Sometimes Donnie could sneak into a gas station and throw a sandwich into the microwave. But Donnie only usually did this in winter, when it was imperative to have warmth and heat.
    Donald (people called him Donny) figured this man has nothing to "donate", and so just stares at the ground. Such is the procedure to avoid some awkwardness as the light stays frozen. Many people looked at Donny in a repugnant manner. Some had sympathy, and it was they who usually gave a dollar, or some loose change. On one exceptional Christmas, Donny had been standing at the light, shuffling and rubbing his arms to keep warm. An elderly black man had been idling at the light, in his Crown Victoria. Donny never forgot how the window had went down with a soft whir, and the face of the old dude came into view. The snow on the window was still thick, and the old guy seemed somehow to magically appear, as the frosted glass lowered, revealing him.
    "Hey!!" the guy yelled in an age-cracked voice, "I've got something for ya!!"
Donny anxiously trotted over to the car, the snow crunching underfoot.
    Donny felt the blast of the heater through the cracked window, and savored the sensation as long as he could. The black dude was bald, and without a single tooth in his nonetheless cheerful grin. His complexion was fair, almost mulatto. His parents must have had a little cafe con leche in their marriage. The gentleman's face looked like an ancient african santa clause, sans beard. It was wrinkled to the point of making his features indistinguishable. The old man was holding a $20 bill in his withered hand. Donnie stares at it with apprehension.
    "take it, son," the black clause says with a cackle, "The light gon change pretty soon, I reckon!!"
    Very slowly, without snatching, Donnie slips the bill from the old guys grip into his own. Donnie stares in disbelief at the greenback.
    "Thank you, sir," Donnie says. It is a shabby gratitude. He tries again.
    "This means a lot, thank you and godbless!!!" Donnie said blissfully.
    "Merry Christmas!!" the elderly dude said, and the light changed. The transition from red to green lit up the old dude and the car like it was a christmas tree. Santa apparently had traded in his sleigh for a Crown Vic, and there were horsepower guiding him now, instead of reindeer power. Donnie will never forget that blessed day.   
    Donnie was too lost in this remembrance of triumph to see the fat dude motioning to him.
    "Hey!!" the fatty yelled, snapping Donnie out of his daydream. The fat man was holding out a dollar towards him. The big baldie was stretched across the seat, and his gullet rested in the passenger seat like another traveler. Donnie rushes over and plucks the bill from him.
    "Thank you!!" Donnie says gratefully. With a sudden regret, Donnie recalls how he had mentally  mocked this guy earlier. It is always beneficial to remember a person who shells out money, in case they met at a traffic light again. He notes the make of the car, and the license plates. Johnson county Iowa, they say. But Donnie also glances another spare set of plates left in the rear window. Those have California painted across them. Anyone who donates is a kind soul in Donnie's eyes, and Donnie memorizes this guys face for future reference. The stoplight ends their interaction and the fat man pulls away with a groan from the Lebaron's crappy engine. Donnie lifts his sign again and resumes his post.


Uploaded 09/20/2012
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