Beggars can't be choosers

"Hey man, could you spare maybe just fifty cents?"

Austin is a small enough place to where you get to know the faces of these people after the amount of time I've spent here. And I know this guy. He always asks for "maybe just fifty cents." As if the word "just" has an inflationary effect on the assets with which he's asking you to part.

"Nah man."

(Say four people almost in unison.)

At least he's nice about it. But the homeless dog he's got as his companion isn't gonna make me feel any more sorry for him.

"That's cool. How about a cigarette?"

A reasonable request, even if with all the new taxes they've levied on them in Texas these days, a single cigarette is essentially the exact same in monetary value.

"Do you smoke ultra lights?" I ask, aiming more at making fun of Solomon than placating this really nice homeless guy.

"Sure man, I'll smoke those," he says enthusiastically.

Solomon reaches for his pack, obligated now. "Dick," he mutters under his breath.

The homeless guy accepts the cigarette marketed for women with the grace of a lady, and says, "Hell, beggars can't be choosers!"

"Literally!" I yelled.

He walks off, dog in tow, giving off no indication that he understands the irony that has just transpired.

Amazing.