Some More of God’s Greatest Mistakes

“They always come for you, in the end.”  the old man said.

I looked at him.  An old man to be sure, but not as old as the first glance told you.  Careworn, a quaint word for a man whose pain you couldn’t quite bring yourself to take seriously.  He wore a wool cap with the remenants of a bobble on its top.  As you can imagine this did not help matters.

“Who comes for you?”  I asked him.

“Not just me, son.  They come to us all, in the end.”

“Well.  I guess I’ll just have to keep my eye out for them.  Thank you.”  I felt that this was as good an answer as was possible to give.  What does one ever say to the lunatic that crosses paths with you?  How do you treat them kindly without further encouraging them?

“You’ll never keep ahead of them with that attitude young man.  Here.  Let me sit down with you a while.  You seem a decent fellow.  Have you got a cigarette?”

I didn’t.  I never smoke when I’m on duty.  It doesn’t look well.  Still, seeing as this man was clearly determined to give me his tale  I settled myself on the bench and took a breath to calm myself.  I realised I might as well make the best of it.

“You might not know it to look at me, but I was once a big man in this town.  I dabbled in business for a while and then I dabbled in politics and eventually I was even elected mayor.  This was back a little over, oh, ten years ago, you know.  The early nineties.

“If you’ll look here you’ll see my name on the plaque here in front of the tree.  Robert Daily, on the occasion of the dedication of this public garden.  I remember the day, of course.  It was the same day as Jim’s funeral.  The same day I saw the Number Men.