Having no toes is no excuse for bad manners.
Now that I've got that out of my system, please allow me to explain:
The Beer Store that I attend has a resident rubby who cruises the neighbourhood in an electric wheelchair like he's bigger than Ben Hur. Being confined to a wheelchair is some golden schtick, and most rub-a-dubs would be happy to have it working for then when trying to panhandle change; this guy isn't happy to settle with the same old wheelchair bit--heavens no! Each morning he pulls of his socks--rain or shine--hot or cold--and exposes his raw red feet to the world. These feet, gentle reader, have no toes. These feet, kind observer, look more like roast hams.
That's his trump card.
I mean, who could possibly turn down the advances of a man, in a wheelchair, who has no toes? Only the coldest, basest, most God-less Torontonian that Hell ever shat would deny this man a few shekels.
I've had encounters with this man in the past, and know him for the crude, ill-mannered bird that he is. His volcabulary does not befit a man who, on outward appearances (forgiving the absence of toes), looks like Good ol' Saint Nick; his manners would leave truckers from Detroit speechless. This toeless beggar is not the same Scope-swilling, sing-song loving variety you get downtown; he a breed unto himself.
Leaving the TBS today with my Rockstar roomie D, there our specimen was. I noticed him scooting towards the store while we were unloading empties--it was getting close to Beer o'clock, and he needed to get his show on the road!
As we left the TBS, he mumbled something about spare change, and tossed a forlorn look our way.
B- "Sorry. Not tonight."
From behind, I hear this Bronx cheer. A Goddamned raspberry spat at our backs! Who does that anymore?
I turned around, met his eyes, and gave him some Bronx Cheer right back.
He looked about as surprised as the day his toes fell off.
Now, I know this post sounds cruel and harsh, but I treat these wayward gents with respect. Telling them "Not tonight" isn't as honest as telling them "Not ever", but even still--I always speak to them directly, and respectfully. I feel pretty justified to bring some bugger, toes or no toes, back in line with a taste of his own medicine!
If he pulls that shit again, I'm letting the air out of his ties. After all, I KNOW that he's got plenty of breath to blow them back up.