What I'm about to tell you cannot leave the Internet. This is just between you, me and the select group of people online or who may ever read archive.org in the future.

Note: the majority of the rest of this rant is diffracted through the lens of an achewood-ometer

So I'm chillin' with my homie Scroop in our pad, checkin' out a Family Guy DVD. I think it's yesterday afternoon. Scroop's just made sandwiches (vego, but more than palatable). I'm on the lounge chair with a glass of nice whiskey in my hand, sandwich in the other, switching a bit of quick banter, when this guy knocks on the door. Scroop is all like "WTF?" and peeks around the door frame at the front door, and sees this shifty looking derro guy with his hands in his pockets.

I'll take a quick moment to describe what I could see of this guy - he had a bit of a pre-mullet going on; close undercut but short and curly on top (I wasn't witness to the back). He's young, but kinda friendly looking, though he's obviously got something on his mind. I assumed this guy was one of our neighbours come to complain about something.

Scroop struts up to the front door, plated sandwich in hand: "Hey man, what's up?". The dude kicks in with nary an intro: "Hey. I have a huge favour to ask man; could you give me a lift down to the Fresh-Stop?" Without hesitation Mr Pass-The-Buck turns to Mr Eating-Sandwich-Watching-Family-Guy and says "I got no time. You feel like giving this guy a lift to the deli, Paul?"

I'm sure this is betraying some level of trust between friends, or at least undermining some foundation of flatmate-hood. I have to say I hesitated, friendly guy that I am. As unlikely as it seems, for a moment my mind ran through best and worst case scenarios where I give this guy a lift to the deli.

Derro jumps in to fill the temporary silence, perhaps sensing my hesitation: "I really gotta pay my rent today, and I've got no money," he explains. To say this sentence seemed a non-sequitur would not be doing it justice. It becomes immediately obvious that he's got money on his mind, so I made up mine. "No man, I got stuff I have to do. No time," I say, guiltily shifting my sandwich off my lap.

The dude, thankfully, makes no more of it and leaves after a quick "thanks anyway." Scroop and I sat in silence for a minute exchanging incredulous glances before going back to our sandwiches and Family Guy. We kept an eye out the front for a while after that though. I don't know how this guy was expecting to be able to pay his rent after a trip to the Fresh-Stop (he didn't have any goods in his immediate possession) but I sure as hell didn't want anything to do with it.

Note: I'll put an image into this post at some stage. The move has temporarily deprived me of an Internet connection. Hence my recent lack of rant updates.