A Stock Broker and Junkie Sit On A Park Bench

 

 

 

 

Like the beginning of a bad joke a broker takes a seat on a park bench near a junkie. Children play and chase one another while innocence fills the summer air. The junkie watches without movement while the broker opens the business section of a fresh paper and mumbles to himself about an article.

“Finally, a significant amount in a stimulus package.”

“Krugman says it still won’t be enough”, the junkie says as he watches a boy push down a small girl in a sundress.

The broker turns to examine the clumped, weather-matted dreadlocks.

“You seem like a smart guy. What are you doing out here?”

The junkie removes a few pieces of bread from his canvas bag and begins throwing crumbs to the pigeons as they surrounded the bench.

“I use to work around here.”

“Where?” the broker asks while folding the paper back together and placing it back in his leather briefcase.

“Behind us.”

“The Schuster building?”

“No, the big one next to it. The one with the fountain.”

The broker turns to examine the magnificent feat of architecture while the grey continued inching its way through the dreadlocks sitting, fixed on the feeding pigeons.

“I had a corner office on the 12^th floor overlooking the Schuster’s gardens. The valets name is Russell. He has two young boys, one of them is an all star little leaguer. His wife left him for a party clown a few years back.”

“What are you doing here? A guy that worked in that building doesn’t belong on a park bench feeding wild animals.”

“Fired.”

“Wife? Kids?”

“She left me and took our daughter to live with her mother in Santa Ana. It was too much for me at the time. I drank more and more and that’s when I got this damn needle stuck in my arm.”

The extreme heat caused sweat to perspire from his forehead and much of it seemed to gather above his top lip as he spoke. There it was, the giant fix protruding from his arm, glistening in the warm summer light like the great Excalibur in the stone. Lodged deep in his vein,the needled served as nothing more than as a dangerous obstacle for passing civilians. Perhaps caution cones were sufficient to prevent any accidents. How the broker missed it before baffled him. “I have to help somehow,” he thought, staring at the massive burden.

“Maybe I can help you,” he said setting his briefcase down and rolling his sleeves to his elbows.

The junkie placed his arm out and sat silently as the broker wrapped his hands around the shaft.

“Maybe if I put my foot on the bench and you put your foot on my knee…”

He was going to be a hero, a savior. He would be a model to society, a great ambassador of sympathy and giving. If this was the Excalibur then he would be Arthur. Surely this would be the event that sealed the deal with St. Peter. Of course he had been no angel and had done what was needed of him to secure his position in the world of the living but what would become of him when this was over? He had his eternity in mind and when the moment came this would be the easy out clause, the deal breaker.

St. Peter would flip through his golden book and say, “ You stole money from…You cheated on your wife with…”

“But lord, I saved the junkie that day in the park! And you saw the cans on that intern!”

With all his might he pulled as he felt the junkie's foot press into his leg. Stopping for a moment he wiped the sweat from his hands on the side of his Dockers khakis.

“Wow, it sure is in there deep!” the broker said, eying the syringe.

“Its been in there for some time now. Your not the first to try pal. My mother tried, my father before her. He used crowbars, chisels, hammers, saws, nothing worked. My preacher used prayer. I even got some professionals to check it out. I paid them a lot of money.”

“I’ll get it out.”

“Whatever you say stranger.”

An hour passed. Then two. Then three and the broker made his last stand. He had tried hammers, help from fellow passers by, even borrowed a jack hammer from the workers at the construction site across the park. The needle still lay dormant, motionless, not a shutter. Falling to the bench the broker sat with his face in his hands.

“Come on now man, don’t let it get you down. Like I said you aren’t the first and you won’t be the last. Hell, I try every night.” The junkie patted him on the back.

Without a word the broker stood from the wooden bench, straightened his tie, picked up his briefcase and walked away. As he walked through the park the children still were playing, birds were singing and flowers bloomed. Somewhere Russell’s children were being beatin with an oversized shoe by a drunken clown and his son was to be the next Hank Aaron. Reaching in his bag once more the junkie removed two more slices of wheat bread and life went on.

 

 

Reviews

[Vitamin A]

I really enjoy this, I feel like it says a lot about humanity. The opening paragraph is my favorite, it seems to set everything up so perfectly.

"Reaching in his bag once more the junkie removed two more slices of wheat bread and life went on." Great ending. The "and life went on" seems to represent so many things.

Well done.

[Legion]

It is true that you can't save everyone, but it is the trying that makes the difference. I love this story even if the junkie stayed a junkie and the broker kept on breaking (so to speak). The title captured my attention and the story kept me going. Well done. Couldn't be better. Kudos and a round of applause.

[Stephanie]

First off, great job! This portrays humanity so well. The little boy that pushed the girl in the sundress down, the broker helping the junkie and failing...... it's a perfect and realistic portrayal (though why someone would have a needle stuck that deep and live is beyond me). It's also humorous in several places to lighten the situation of one guy losing his family to a clown and the other who is cheating on his wife. I found it subtle and essential. This was a great story. Keep it up :)

[Sorry Infamous]

Very compelling story. A good look at addiction and how life goes on around it.

[Sel Whiteley]

A great story with real depth, brilliantly written. I loved the characterisation.

[Stephanie990]

This was well done, very well written. There is so much meaning to this story and to me, although it was quite sad to read, but very, very true. The junkie went through so much with losing a job and his family and the stranger would want to help him but in the end, it seemed that the them two remained the same and he continued on with his life. Though people might try their best to have a significant change upon meeting another person who is less fortunate, they may come to realize that perhaps they can not change that person when they themselves do not ask for the help, they must ask for the help first themselves. I enjoyed this story. Very well, well, done.

[Rebecca Rogers]

This was so sad, but true. The real message: people don't try hard enough to help others.

Nice work.

[Davlin]

What I really enjoyed about this piece was the broker wanting to do this noble deed with not so noble intentions. He was more interested in what he could get out of it than actually helping the junkie. I'm sure most good deeds are usually done with the exact same mindset...kinda sad. Great job.

[Christen Rose]

Honestly, I loved this. wow. bravo! :) Great job capturing the essence of society. Normally, poetry is more attracting to me than short stories, but this was fantastic.

[Kristin Brecoe]

Wow. I'm glad some lovely friend of mine sent this read request. This piece was amazing. The depth and the imagery made it so enjoyable. It would be cool to read short stories like this in school, instead of the boring pieces they make us read. This one is simple yet has a lot of depth and strength.

Uh, I don't know what else to say. This is just great. I'll probably favorite this.

-Kristin

[Eagle Cruagh]

Forget the phraseology, kinetic diversity, flow
and all the poo that people seem to need to
make a review. I go for the jugular, where there
is life, the writer. What does the story say about
the writer.
You just described the drug habit like I have never
seen it described before. You could use the same
analogy to describe alcoholism, wanton sex addicts,
anyone with a problem----and you did .

Here is a good reason why your writing is good;
Although I will not read other reviews before I
write, I do scroll down and sometimes count them.
This is the most popular writing that I have seen
today.

Great writing !

Rating: 100 %

-=----Eagle Cruagh