Tom Oatmeal

Even though they’re clearly dining outdoors, I still like to walk by like, “Sorry folks!  I don’t have any change to give you!  Now move along, please.”

Then I listen from behind a tree.

“Fuck that guy,” they say.

“Who me?”

They look up and sure enough, I’ve climbed the tree!  

But it was difficult and I’m all scratched up and bleeding.

“Pay no mind to your wounds,” I think.  ”Or else they win.”