Healing Fast, Thinking Slow
Leo healed up fast. Like, suspiciously fast. Barely half a day had gone by, and his bruises were already fading like they’d never been there. Even he found it a little weird. But hey—he wasn’t complaining.
Now he was just wandering the street by himself with no real destination, just drifting wherever his feet took him.
He slipped a hand into his pocket—nothing. Not even a penny.
He sighed. Loudly.
“Shit… what now?” he muttered. “No money, starving… what’s next, begging on the street?”
He looked up.
Just ahead, a few beggars were squatting on both sides of the sidewalk, shaking cracked ceramic bowls and smoking. They looked really chill and relaxed—like they didn’t have a care in the world. Just chilling there.
The Twenty-Dollar Revelation
Just then, a well-dressed woman strutted by—heels clicking, perfume trailing like a movie entrance. She stopped in front of one of the beggars, casually pulled out a crisp twenty-dollar bill, and dropped it into the bowl without saying a word.
Leo saw the whole thing.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Huh… begging doesn’t seem like such a bad gig,” he thought. “Maybe I should give it a try. Just for a few days, you know—before my new job starts next week. Make some quick cash.”
The beggar who got the twenty practically exploded with joy. He dropped to the ground, full-on kneeling, arms out, and slammed his forehead against the pavement—once, twice, three times—each thud so loud, Leo winced just watching it.
“Thank you! Bless you! May you live a long, peaceful life and get rich beyond your wildest dreams!”
Leo blinked. That guy was good. He was putting on a show. Noted.
The Rude Awakening
But the vibe shifted quickly.
A young mom walked by next, holding the hand of her six- or seven-year-old son. As they neared the beggar, the boy leaned in close to his mother like he sensed danger.
She whispered, “Stay close to me. Don’t make eye contact with them. Some of these people can be dangerous. Maybe even crazy.”
The boy nodded. “Okay, Mom.”
But as they passed the beggar, the kid cleared his throat—loudly—and suddenly spat a thick wad of phlegm straight into the beggar’s bowl.
It landed with a wet splut.
The beggar froze, eyes wide in disbelief. Then his face twisted with fury.
“What the hell is wrong with that kid?!”
The boy turned around casually, gave a lazy shrug, and shouted at the top of his lungs:
“Fuck you, man!”
Math Wars on the Sidewalk
The beggar, stunned, didn’t hesitate.
He fired back, “Fuck you twice!”
The kid smirked. “Fuck you three times!”
The beggar roared, “Fuck you ten times!”
“Fuck you a hundred times!”
“Fuck you a million times!”
“Fuck you times Googleplex!”
They went back and forth like that, screaming insults like it was a math competition between two three-year-olds.
And finally, with fire in his eyes and spit flying from his mouth, the beggar shouted:
“Fuck you infinite times!”
Second Thoughts, Violent Results
Leo stood there, watching the whole thing like a man who just stumbled into the middle of a fever dream.
“Damn,” he thought. “That kid’s got serious attitude… His parents must be absolute savages.”
Then he looked back at the beggar.
“Could I really do this? Be a beggar?”
He pictured himself sitting there, day after day, hoping for mercy… only to get spat on by random kids.
“Maybe this gig isn’t as easy as it looks…”
Just as that thought crossed his mind, the boy’s mom suddenly turned around. Without warning, she sprinted back toward the beggar and—no hesitation—leapt into the air like something out of a kung fu flick.
Mid-air, she yelled, “Stop fucking with my kid!”
Then she twisted and slammed a flying kick straight into the beggar’s head.
WHAM!
The force of the kick sent the beggar flying off the sidewalk, tumbling helplessly into the middle of the street. His bowl slipped from his hands and clattered across the asphalt.
Then—right on cue—a delivery truck came barreling down the road.
CRUNCH.
One sickening sound, and it was over.
The beggar was gone. Just like that.
The scene instantly turned unwatchable. If this were a movie, the screen would’ve immediately gone pixelated and censored like some kind of “parental advisory” warning.
Parenting, Apparently
Meanwhile, the mom brushed off her hands, grabbed her son’s hand, and kept walking without looking back.
“Didn’t I tell you not to make so much eye contact with them?” she said calmly. “You never know what these people might do. If you don’t listen next time, I’m not taking you to buy toys anymore.”
The boy nodded. “I know, Mom.”
She smiled and gave his hand a squeeze. “That’s my bad boy.”
Exit Strategy
Leo stood frozen on the sidewalk, eyes wide, a chill crawling down his spine.
“Okay… maybe being a beggar isn’t such a great idea after all.”
Just like that, the idea of becoming a beggar vanished into thin air.
He shook his head, took a deep breath, and turned away from that cursed street.
A few blocks later, he stopped in front of a Cantonese restaurant. The smell hit him immediately—rich, savory, full of sizzling garlic and roasted meats. It was like heaven punching him in the nose.
His stomach growled—so loud that even people passing by turned their heads.
“Oh man… I’m starving,” he thought. “I’m going to eat first, and worry about the money later.”
With zero hesitation, Leo straightened his back, cracked his neck, and marched right into the Cantonese restaurant.