conversations with smoot by worm 4

In which the Man's true intentions are revealed.

(Scene: Mid-day in early November, I'm driving in car, stopped at a stoplight in Minneapolis. A seemingly homeless man approaches the car. I scoop a few dollars worth of change out of the center consol and lower window.)

Me: Here you go (reaching hand through window)

Smoot: Man quit foolin. Open the back door, we needs ta talk.

Me: Fred? What the...

(Smoot gets into the back seat of the car as the light changes. I resume driving. Fred is sweating profusely and seems panicked)

Smoot: I needs your help man! I am freakin out!

Me: Jeez, calm down. What are you doing here – don’t you have practice or something? Do you even play football any more?

Smoot: Man, there are things more important than football! Ain’t you ever heard of 2012?

Me: You mean the year?

Smoot: I mean the last year! I saw that new movie about 2012 and the freakin world is gonna end! What, you think that Jon Cusak is gonna save your pasty hide?

Me: I’m pretty sure that’s just a movie – it’s just fiction, made-up. I don’t think...

Smoot: Man I know what I saw. And then I checked this stuff out on wikipedia and it’s true! Turns out the Mayans knew about this way back, but the Europeans stole it from them and kept it a secret from us folk.

Me: Assuming for a minute that the world was gonna end in a little more than three years and that anything else you said was true, how does coming here and pretending to be homeless help you out?

Smoot: Naw man, this disguise is to help you. You’z gotta sneak me onto that rocket.

Me: What rocket?

Smoot: You know, the rocket youz white folks got ta take yall to your moon base before the planet falls apart.

Me: (Sarcastic) Oh, that rocket. How’d you find out about that?

Smoot: Never you mind how I found out – why didn you tell me? Man, I thought we was cool.

Me: Fred, there’s no rocket and no moon base and no end of the world. You’re just going into another one of your paranoid delusions about the Man keeping you down…

Smoot: Man, the Man is keeping me down! You think the President cares about my black ass?

Me: But the President is black. Come on Fred, you live in Washington, how do you not know that?

Smoot: Black President? Man, now who’s talking fiction? You know what, just let me out up at the corner.

Me: Ok... hey wait. There’s a strip club on that corner! Did you just need a ride?!?

Smoot: (exiting the car) Thanks for the lift baby, hehehe. Smoot out!

Me: (yelling out of the window after him) Can I at least have my change back?