Alternate Route Suggested

by David Handsher

 
    Work-a-day johnny was coming home to his wife and two kids, cute as pie. Paycheck johnny stopped at the bank and punched some numbers, grabbed his 20's. Rainy day johnny turned and popped open his umbrella. Traffic jam johnny crossed the street, his brief case in one hand and the umbrella in the other. City slick johnny walked down the sidewalk past a one-legged panhandler whose sign said, “Why do fools fall in love?” Be-a-sport johnny reached into his pocket and gave the man a quarter, even though this meant that he no longer had correct change for the bus home. When ride-the-bus johnny got to the bus stop, he realized that his wallet was not in his raincoat pocket, not in his pants pockets and not in his briefcase. Turnabout johnny retraced his steps scanning the ground in search for his wallet. When desperately seeking johnny passed the panhandler the sign had changed (Who wrote the book of love?) and the panhandler looked at Mr. johnny without the slightest hint of recognition, even though the two had exchanged meaningful glances moments before. Hurry up johnny was now at the bank window frantically searching for the wallet. At-a-loss johnny stood there cursing at the sky, wondering how he was going to make it home. Down-the-alley johnny’s eye caught sight of something on the ground just around the corner from the bank and hurried to the spot. What-a-relief johnny bent down and picked up the wallet, (it was his) and opened it. All-is-lost johnny sank to one knee — gone was the cash, gone were all the credit cards and id’s. Why me johnny walked aimlessly for a moment or two here and there, back and forth, his mind blank as ice. Be-a-trooper johnny started walking in the general direction of his house, his wife and two kids, cute as pie. Sad eyed johnny walked and day dreamed about a dinner of shepherd pie and goat cheese, red wine and custard thick with cream. Outsider johnny passed a café where couples sat under umbrellas sipping from long-stemmed glasses and johnny could not bear to look. Trust-in-others johnny had a sudden idea — why not explain what had happened to people he saw on the street? (Someone would be sure to understand and give him enough to get home). Brother-can-you-spare-a-dime johnny stopped one stranger and then another, but each hurried off as if johnny were contagious and no would even listen. So ironic johnny sat down pulled paper and pen from his briefcase and wrote a sign, not about his wallet but: “Love is just a four letter word.” Beggar johnny sat in silence beside his sign, propped up on his open briefcase, and watched the shoes and stockings as they passed on their way home. Down-on-his-luck johnny sat rocking back and forth to keep himself warm while night fell and wrapped the street in darkness.

There are some that say that our johnny never made it home, that to-this-day johnny still sits on sidewalks asking for change or that victim johnny was mugged and stabbed to death as he walked through the projects on his way home, but I think differently. I bet that land-on-his-feet johnny called his wife collect and she came downtown to fetch him in the station wagon with the two kids cute as pie in the back seat.

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