I offered the "other guy" some of the Raisin Bran, who eagerly accepted, and began to greedily dig his hand into the box (why couldn't he have poured out handfuls, like I did, did he think I would let him have the rest of the box once he had "touched it?") and began to stuff his mouth ravenously.
As he did this, I related the details of my knee injury. I told him about all the pain I was in, and why I hadn't returned sooner. All he said was "Yeah."
He crunched away at handful after handful, rejoining everything I said with "Yeah."
He ultimately provoked me to anger, after I had said; "That's the knee I had surgery on, when I was younger,' and was answered by yet another "Yeah," as if he could have had preknowledge of that fact. He thus made it apparent that he was not even listening to me, didn't care about anything except my Raisin Bran, or perhaps couldn't hear me over the crunching in his mouth.
After one final "Yeah," I lost my temper and snatched the box of Raisin Bran away and said "Anything I say, huh?"
I then retrieved my knife and went back to the game, and the throbbing pain in my knee, which I endured all night in solitude. I didn't want his hand in my cereal box, anyway.
15 Place No Help At All
I spent the whole day there, in the waiting room, reading Henry Fielding. I guess the idea is that if homeless people are going to fake maladies, in order to get free pain medicine, (not my case, but, how would they know?) they were going to have to suffer for it. After 14 hours of "waiting," I was given an anti-inflammatory shot, and told that my knee would get better on its own.