The time, 11 PM. The place: St-Charles Blvrd. The state: "happy".

There I was, walking the lonely streets of St-Charles. Buzzing in my ear were the remenants of a fresh delivery, but blasting in my head were the soothing whisper of "Brutal Death Metal". Lovely. Lined along the street, sheltered inside plexiglass bus shelters lay a bevy of depraived vagabonds and social castaways. Their stares strpping me naked of my comfort and sence of safety. Slowly but surely, a sence of impending contact filled my mind; the paranoia was setting in. This trip up the usually accomadating St-Charles was beginning to turn sour like that carton of milk I found under the fridge once. That thing was was nasty. All the curds and whatnot. I'm rambling...

As I kept my trajectory north, I crossed a man on the ground sniffing a small vial. I thought nothing of it until the man decided to get up and walk towards my direction. I stayed the course, hoping that I could simply ignore his presence and escape without incident. But his steady walk became a drunken jog. I feel a hand on my shoulder applying incresing amount of pressure. I was perhaps expecting a question, but only muffled grunts came out. I felt his had slide toward my pocket in which my wallet was kept. It was my right to defend myself. To subdue him, I thought an elbow to the sternum would do the trick. Little did I know that the elbow would extract such horrible sounds from this man. To avoid suspicion (standing next to a cokehead lying on the ground cursing you and crying in agony is not a good way to be incognito), I kept on my previous course.

Then, the sirens.

I was paranoid before. This paranoia was now full blown fear.

Eventually, a cop car pulled up next to me. I acted perfectly normal (considering I had a right to incapaxcitate the cokehead) as the officer rolled the window down. He asked me what happened back at the scene of the crime. I calmly told him what happened and how the bum was attempting to steal my wallet, so I decided to defend myself. He gave me a long look before responding, a certain distrust between us was obvious. He escorted me to the back of the car to go to the station for a report. We rationalized a bit, I told him exactly what happened, he let me go after I filled in the report.

I went back to the scene of the incident, where I found the bum gone. I didn't think much of it until I saw an ambulance next to where his body lay. In the back window of the ambulance was his mug. He was inaudibly yelling profanities at me, cursing me and pointing his finger at me.

I thought: "Great. All I wanted was donuts... now a vagabond cursed my name. I'm in for it".

I continued my PREVIOUS pathway north through the differant shopping complexes and restaurants. Like an explorer looking for a sacred idol or something.

There it was. I beeming pillar of light in this dank wasteland of destitution and flat out bad people. The light was reaching towards me, as if asking me to come on in.

I was happy to oblige.

"And then I ate the donut. And it was good".