For a cigarette butt.
Picture it. Minneapolis, 2006:
I'm walking down the street after a few drinks with friends. On the way home, I have to pass the local gas station which is a hot spot for local street trash. Usually they are harmless and kinda funny. For instance, the first guy I walked by asked me for money so he could buy a hot dog. When I told him I had no cash (the truth, I never have any cash), he asked me if I would go into the gas station and charge it. Then he smiled at me and looked for the next sucker.
The next guy wanted a drag off my lit cigarette. I'm ok with some community smoking, but not with just any dude hanging out on a street corner. So I politely declined his request. He started walking down the block with me. We walk for half a block with him repeatedly asking "Man, can I get a hit off that?." Finally, he stepped in front on me as if to say "Don't fuck with me or I'll cut you." But in the process of stepping in front of me, he bumped my hand holding the cigarette, and sent the cherry flying down onto his shirt. I'd already smoked nearly the whole thing, so when the cherry fell off I gave him what remained -- the butt with maybe half a drag of legitimate tobacco left to smoke.
He was either embarrassed about spreading burning ash all over himself, or satisfied with his conquest. He turned and walked back to his friends.
And I walked home without incident.
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When I lived in S MPLS there were 2 SAs near my stomping grounds. The first one, by Loring Park was a breeding ground for the local street trash aforementioned. The second one on Nicollet and Franklin was no less scary as their was a dirty little liquor store across the street where drunks hung around hoping that the nice yuppies would spring a quarter or two throughout the day so they could get themselves some cheap wine or a little pint of shit rum... I remember those days.
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