Midget Bum

I’m enjoying the scenery at the local goth/rocker/long-haired hell raiser watering hole. PBR in hand, leaning on the rail that surrounds the dance floor.  Chain link fence separates the pogo happy boot stomping dancers as they push each other around while I Wanna Be Sedated pierces the thick manufactured fog.  The only light on the dance floor is green, so everyone looks like rocker ghouls out there.  It’s kind of eerie, but in a completely mesmerizing way.

My boys pop up next to me, and we exchange handshakes and hellos.  Tip our bottles up and enjoy a couple of laughs.  This is great people watching territory!  The collection of spikes, piercings, goth clothing, leather and vintage rocker Ts really make it worthwhile to stop off in here each weekend.  Me?  Biker jacket, Alice In Chains T, old ripped up jeans (back when people actually wore them until they ripped on their own) and combats.  So, basically another day in the life of a rock culture poseur.

I turn to take a couple of step over to where a couple of Betties are sitting, and it feels like my left foot is stuck to the floor, because I can’t seem to move my leg.  I look back, and here’s a little bearded guy, holding onto the strings attached to the ripped hole in my left pant leg.  Double take/rub eyes/whaa? Then one of the voices in my head says,

Voice: There’s a midget tugging on your pants, dude.
Me:  I know! What the hell is this?
Voice: You better find out, he looks pissed, dude.
Me: Dude, why do you keep calling me dude?

I lean down towards the little man.  He’s smelly, crusty, and dirty.  I think he’s a homeless guy; I’ve never seen him in here before. Not like I often see homeless people in this joint, but he’s dressed like he could be in Mini Kiss.  I say, “Yes... What do you want?”  “Gimme a dollar.” “I’m not giving you a dollar, dude.” I turn to walk away.  Midget Bum Guy now is pulling on the belt of my leather biker jacket. “Dude, seriously, lay off the leather, dude.” “Gimme a dollar, asshole.” “I’m sorry, I’m not giving you any money.” Now he’s glaring intently at me, with a hint of I’mabouttogopostalonyourrockerass. “Give.Me.A.Dollar.”  And for good measure, he gives me a shove.  Now at this point, Voice decides to go all tough guy on me.

Voice: Dude, screw this little bum jerk.
Me: I know, but he’s just a homeless guy, AND he’s a dwarf.  Shouldn’t I have pity on him, or show some compassion?”
Voice: You are acting like such a homo, dude.  He grabbed the leather.
Me: Well, yeah, and he shoved me, too.
Voice: Exactly.  Drop this bitch like a bad habit.
Me: But dude, he’s just a midget bum. And what will my buddies say?
Voice: Since when do you care about what those douchebags think, dude?  We’re rockers, man!

Stuck in a bit of a quandrey, wasn’t I?  Do I drop the bum since he tried to assault you? Or do I just give him the dollar and tell him to grow up?

I gave him the dollar.  Well, actually, I defiantly dropped it on the floor at his little bum feet. Then I watched the bouncers escort him to the door and toss him like it was midget bowling night. Big John (the bouncer) said, “Dude, we saw the whole thing go down, dude. You shoulda decked that guy.”  It was the last I saw of him.