boy scout

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When I was a kid, sometimes I would stand next to the comic book rack and try to evoke the look of ultimate sorrow. This was in hope that some kindly stranger would take pity upon me and buy me a comic book. It never happened.

JUMP CUT: LAST WEEKEND
DAY - OUTSIDE THE GROCERY STORE

"You wanna buy some cookies?" said the painfully shy child with the huge, moist Disney Eyes®, unfathomably cute freckles, and—oh no—brown ponytail.

It was time for me to be that guy. To be the kindly stranger who was never there for me. I would just give her however much she needed. No cookies necessary.

Take that, karma, you hypocritical slag!

"How much are they?"

"Four dollars."

"And how many do you need to sell, sweetheart?"

"250."

A THOUSAND DOLLARS?! WHAT THE FUCK FOR, IS SHE GOING TO TAHITI?! my Inner Dad screamed, and for once my Inner John agreed with him.

"One box of the peanut butter things," I said sheepishly.

And thus did the child resume her search for kindly strangers.