He looked worn and old and dingy. He was fat and greasy and wearing a wife beater. He drew out a fag and smoked it too.
"I need help," I said.
"Sure you do." He said.
I realized that I was getting advice from a washed up guy, who nobody thought was worth talking to anymore.
"The politicians of this town won't listen to me. They're all corrupt."
"Of course they are."
"I can't even get a meeting. I'm in a democratic system. And these crackerjacks won't give me a meeting. I'm a constituent."
"Of course they won't. Then you'll keep pointing out their problems."
I took in another plume of smoke and exhaled it. Marlboro Red. I could taste it.
"The mayor here's been indicted once. Took some scandalous trip to Shanghai." I said.
"Oh, he's done more than that." He proceeded to tell me about it.
"I see," I said. I continued, "But, I need a meeting. I need things done. What do I do?"
"I'll tell you what to do." He proceeded to tell me.
I said, "That makes sense." I thought about it. That makes a lot of sense. I was about done with my cigarette.
I continued. "I need some dirt on one of them."
"I'll tell you how to get that. Here's what you do." That makes sense too.
My cigarette was out. "Alright. Thanks." I shook his hand. "I'll let you know what happens."
"Ok. I look forward to it."