“I couldn’t help it you’re just so beautiful.”
In high school I discovered a quote “high school is like prison: the sex you want you ain’t getting and the sex you getting – you ain’t want.”
It’s a typical Monday morning. I search my phone for entertainment to survive the commute. Wendy William’s hot topic is mind numbing. Switching to NPR, I catch the tail end of a segment explaining the differences between #BlackLivesMatter and #AllLivesMatter. This is too heavy for a Monday. I need something uplifting to take my mind off of bills, roommate issues, and all the horrible current world events.
Praise hands emoji for Kari Jobe’s music. Yes! My favorite seat on the train is open. I never mastered the art of staying awake on public transport. Knocking on mental wood, I zip my purse and loop the straps around my arm. Here’s to not getting robbed.
“Spare some change for the homeless?” I open my eyes to see a young, black male bundled in a thick winter coat. His oversized pants sag, and his hair is matted. On the up side, his face isn't crusted with snot and other fluids. I think those with excess snot and mucus do crack, but I don’t know anything about drug culture.
“Anybody got some change for the homeless?” He idles in my area. The other fellow passengers look right through him. What would Jesus do? It’s pretty hard to be heartless when you’re ‘in the spirit.' I think Jesus understood that black lives matter. The lives of literal black people. As well as metaphorical black people. Jesus touched and mingled with society's black sheep.
“Sorry,” I mumble while briefly making eye contact. Moments later, he was still standing there when I opened my eyes. I guess we have to be more audible. “I don’t have any money, sorry.”
“Yeah, I know. Can I have a hug?”
A loud lingering sigh. What? Name one person – besides Jesus – who is jumping at the chance to hug a hobo? I’ll wait. I set my purse aside, and we hug on the train. My tightly wrapped arms press our bodies together. Closing my eyes, I imagine fireworks and dazzling music surround us like the end scene of Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. Breaking the hug, I open my eyes just in time to see this fool coming in for a kiss!
“No!” I slide my hand between our faces. “What is wrong with you? You can’t kiss me!”
“But you’re so pretty.”
Incensed. Indignant. I reinsert my headphones and return to sleeping on the train. WWJD? Keep his eyes open while helping the helpless.
Created on St. Maarten. Based in Chicago. Onicia Muller (@OniciaMuller) writes, says funny things, and enjoys hanging with creative minds. Originally published in The Daily Herald's Weekender, Just Being Funny is a weekly reflection where Onicia laughs at life.
