Good Morning Mr. Flim Flam Man

My housemate has a houseguest this week, so I’m thinking its him when someone wants to buzz in at my apartment’s front door. A few minutes later, I hear soft tapping at my door, but when I open it, not a crunchy environmentalist type do I see.

Shaking my hand, talking fast, and trying to slip past me is a guy looking a little too fiendish to be a friend of mine, or friend of my friends. Fiendish in that, “I need a morning fix to stop the shakes” kinda way. Saying something about knowing a guy on my floor and needing cab fare to get out his tools, I quickly realize what’s happening, and telling him “good try” I slam the door in his face.

From my corner window I check the front of the building. No taxi there, so I was right, Mr. Flim Flam Man was looking for a quick $10′er. Then its time for me to be Mr. Do the Right Thing and I go looking for Mr. Flim Flam Man, just to make sure he’s not pulling this gig on someone else.

Nope, Flim Flam has left the building. See him in yours yet?

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

Married, mortgaged, and soon to be a father, Wayan Vota is in the fast lane to mid-life respectability – until the day his brood finds his intimate journal of global traveling and curses him with the ever-eternal reply “I’m gonna be just like you, Dad!”

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