I have the trump card.
One day, I was walking from where I worked at Carter's in Downtown, New Bedford, to a bank across the block called St. Anne's to deposit a check.
Along the way, I noticed a suspicious looking individual hanging out by the dumpster behind Naughty Dawgs. He didn't look crazy or homeless, but he was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, which was rather disconcerting.
He had long, wavy blondish hair and a slight beard, and was wearing cargo shorts. Basically, he looked like the average dude I'd see at a Pearly Baker show at The Bullpen.
(To my out of town readership: Pearly Baker is a Grateful Dead tribute band. The Bullpen is where they play their shows. Depending on your cup of tea, Pearly Baker are either the best or the worst thing ever. What I'm saying is, the dude looked like a burnt out hippie, and may've been.)
The thing that really got me about this guy was his shadiness. When I walked by and glared at him, he didn't make eye contact and kind of walked around the Naughty Dawgs dumpster; hid almost. Then I crossed the street to the bank, and the dude started scouting around the dumpster again. Maybe he lost something, I thought.
As I entered the bank, I looked out of the entryway and noticed the dude had made his way behind the dumpster, in between the dumpster and the building. When I got in the bank, he disappeared from view. Just dropped out of sight.
I walked to the window and noticed the dude squatting behind the dumpster.
I hurriedly made my transaction at the bank. When I left, the dude was nowhere to be found.
I was curious as to what this idiot was doing behind the dumpster. So, I walked over there to take a look. I thought he may've been looking for a partially concealed place to shoot up, and expected to find a used sharp.
Instead, I was greeted with a rather sloppy looking dump. I didn't stay too long to find out particulars, but I do know the guy wiped his ass with Dunkin' Donuts napkins, because there were shitty napkins all over the place.
I was going to tell the owners of Naughty Dawgs what happened, but didn't want them to think, even subconsciously, that I'd taken the shit.
And I felt for the guy. How many times had I been in similar situations? A man about to shit himself, in need of a toilet with none to be found. Pure torture.
So, I went back to work.
The next day, my buddy Jake and I were walking to Naughty Dawgs for lunch.
"I saw some guy taking a shit behind the Naughty Dawgs dumpster yesterday." I said.
Jake laughed. "You're full of shit, man."
"I'm not. You'll see."
And sure enough, the shit was still there. The wind had blown around the shitty napkins a bit, but one straggler remained, clinging to the turd for dear life.
That day, Jake learned never to doubt me again.