Piccolo meets a guy that knows the game.

in of all places, San Francisco.

While walking in to a supermarket I guess the door sensor was askew because it didn't open for the man ahead of me, a cheerful looking black guy in dreadlocks.  I was entering squarely. He had come in from the side. When I approached it it opened. I looked at him seriously and said, "The door must be racist," and was treated to an amused smirk. I had stolen the line from somewhere else who had a similar thing happen.

Both of us were curious enough to try and figure it out. Apparently the sensor was askew a bit but that's neither here nor there. Still, we both feigning seriousness agreed the door was racist. The game was on.

Actually the first time he had come in from the side. I had approached is straight on but we still both agreed the door was racist. Why not? 

I waved him through but he politely told me to go first.

"It's certainly nice to see a fine young man like yourself being so kind to a senior citizen," I said.

"I try," he replied. "I was taught to be kind to old people," he replied.

"My!  That's certainly saved you from any number of gunshot and stab wound, Hasn't it?" I asked, cheerfully. I was treated to the amused look of a younger man that knew how the game was played. You laugh, you lose.

"You know, now that you mention it my cousin works near the Social Security office and he doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut. He's always getting shot, stabbed and beaten up by old people. Why, just last week he got the living snot beat out of him by an old lady with a cane." he said. It clearly was a fabricated story but that's part of the game.

I mentioned shooting and knifing fifteeen or twenty rude youngsters since I turned 60. He smirked. We both saw some nosy kid listening in.

A nosy college aged boy in half-ased drag butted in. He had been listening in and demanded to know if I had a gun. "Of course," I replied. "How else would I be able to shoot some rude little whelp like you." The kid threatened to call the police on me. You know, the police he wants defunded.

The guy in dreadlocks spoke up. "You know, I'm supposed to be somewhere soon but I don't care if I'm late. I want to watch this one come down."

I looked at the college aged kid. "Hey, a$$hole, whaddya gonna do about it? Tell my parole officer and get my parole yanked and have me put back in the joint? I just got OUTTA San f***in' Quinten, ya little dweeb!"

The kid turned ashen and the guy in the dreadlocks damned near but not quite laughed. "That old man will shoot your ass!" he said.

It was still a draw. Neither of us had broken out laughing and the ashen faced kid walked off kind of fast.

It was a joy meeting another smug smartassed piece of cloth that came from the same bolt. We then looked at each other both and laughed like hell.

What was really astonishing to me is it happened in San Francisco.

To find out why the blog is pink just cut and paste this: http://piccoloshash.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-feminine-side-blog-stays-pink.html NO ANIMALS WERE HARMED IN THE WRITING OF TODAY'S ESSAY