“Straight Shooter?
by Russell Stern

	He was singing to himself, "...and a straight shooting sun of a gun," as he walked noticeably in an arc towards the street as if to avoid the man sitting on the bench.
	"Sir, what's your problem with me?"
	"Huh?"
	"You walked around me.  Didn't you?"
	"I'm running late.  You're wasting my time.  I have no time to speak.  Good day sir."
	"Who the hell do you think you are?  Willy Wonka?  I ain't no Umpa Lumpa to go work in your factory."
	 "Get out of my face.  If I needed to hire somebody, it definitely would not be you."
	"Are you discriminating against me?"
	"Why would I do something like that?"
	"You walked around me to avoid me.  You must be a racist pig."
	"Certainly I am not."
	"Are you ashamed because I'm homeless?"
	"No."
	"Is it because I'm a midget?"
	"No."
	"Is it because I'm black?"
	"No, but now I see you for your true colors."
	"What's that supposed to mean? Why don't you just be blunt and call me a nigger?"
	"That's not what I meant.  Why don't you go back and ask your high school English teacher what that means?  You are perceptive.  You called me Willy Wonka. That means you aren't stupid."
	"Okay, I get you.  It's not because I is black.  It's not because I is a midget.  It's not because I is a homeless.  Bullshit.  You're just another lily-white cracker."
	"I don't need to take this."
	"You probably think I'm a drug dealer too."
	"That's beside the point."
	"Okay, Willy Wonka, what the hell is your point?  Shower me.  Why must a lily-white cracker with a suit and tie walk around me like I is worthless?"
	"You are not worth the reason I walked around you."
	"And I guess if I shook my can at you, you'd make a beeline across the street."
	"Actually no, not at all.  If I saw your can and you asked me nicely, I might have dropped in a quarter for you."
	"Really?  No.  So now you feel guilty.  You want to sugarcoat me Willy Wonka?"
	"Not at all.  I am late to this meeting and I don't know why I am still talking to you."
	"Okay, okay, okay, I is sorry for coming on so strong.  I would like to know straight up why you disrespect."
	"Straight up?"
	"Yes, I'd like to hear your truth."
	"It was your cigarette.  I have asthma and walked around your smoke. Not you.  No hard feelings?"
	"No hard feelings."
	After the man left, the homeless black midget put down his cigarette and realized that he was in California, a healthy joyous land free of prejudice.