The Saga of the Homeless Oak Ridge Boy (Part V)

He's back!!

This morning when I came out of my building and rounded the corner to get in my car, a wet plastic bag flew out of nowhere and stuck to the side of my leg. I don't want to speculate about what the bag contained --- or what it had contained at one time --- because I'm not sure I really want to know. But as I peeled the foul-smelling thing off my slacks, I was pleased and excited to see that the homeless man who looks like the bearded Oak Ridge Boy was the hurler of the misbegotten item.

As you might remember from my blog entries (I know millions of you read them with rapt devotion . . . ahem), the homeless guy who throws trash at me every morning had disappeared from my life for what I thought would be forever. I was disappointed to see him go, and in the past months have had to work through a lot of issues concerning my affinity for him. After all, I asked myself, why would anyone have any regard for a little bearded man who throws trash at them when they come out of the house to go to work each day?

Well, as odd as it sounds, he and I had developed some sort of symbiotic relationship that I had grown comfortable with, and when he left, I really missed our unusual form of interaction. There have been many times in recent weeks where I have come out for work in the morning, and not only stood there, waiting to be hit with an old newspaper or a used coffee filter, but have even attempted to make myself an easy target.

But I've discovered one can only puff one's chest up like a rooster or bend over with one's ass in the air so many times without incident before one must accept the reality that no homeless person is stepping in as a substitute thrower. Besides, the neighbors tend to view that type of daily behavior in the parking lot a little creepy, and are apt to call the police, or in a pinch, douse one with pepper spray or apply a Taser to one's tender areas.

An ignorant public can be such a cruel public.

At any rate, I no longer have to risk pain and bodily injury, as the homeless Oak Ridge Boy has returned, and it appears our daily trash dance will resume.

It's funny, I had no idea where the little guy disappeared to, but in his absence, I heard an Oak Ridge Boys' song on the radio for the first time in decades, and I smiled under the pretense that it was indeed my friend's voice coming out of my speakers.

But wherever he went, apparently it was good for him. His color is excellent, and dare I say . . . I think his beard has been trimmed and combed through. And he has not lost any accuracy in his tosses, as the wet plastic bag on my thigh this morning affirms. He seems to be in very good shape.

Unfortunately, I cannot approach him as I did before, as I don't want to frighten him away again. So the question remains: Is he in fact, the bearded guy from The Oak Ridge Boys?

Perhaps someday I will find a way to be certain.

In the meantime, let the trash dance continue.