Allister carried little resolutions inside his head. Sometimes these were attached to a new year and sometimes they were not. Sometimes they were spoken and sometimes they were silent. Sometimes they made sense and many times they made nothing. But, still, it seemed a worthwhile investment and so he kept on making them.
One such resolution involved panhandlers, beggars, and vagabonds (and one should not say just one resolution, for many of Allister's resolutions involved panhandlers, beggars, and vagabonds. what one should say in all correctness is, "This particular resolution involved panhandlers, beggars, and vagabonds.).
It was simple as many of the finer things are. If Allister had anything in his pockets that he did not need, he gave it to the person shaking the cup. Quarters, nickels, dimes, pennies, and paper clips. If Allister did not need it at that moment, or some other moment in the foreseeable future, he tossed it.
This went on for some time as good resolutions will. Allister would nod to the panhandler, beggar, or/and vagabond and carry on his way-until, one day, when Allister happened to be with a companion. There was the shake of the cup. There was the discovery of unnecessary change. And there was the toss and the nod. And even the carry on his way. But, once he was on his way, his companion stopped him. Not near the soul who shook the cup. Heaven's no. This would have been in poor taste. It was, though, just around the corner from the soul who shook the cup.
Allister's companion asked for an explanation. When it was given, Allister's companion asked for an explanation beyond a resolution. Allister did not have one. So, his companion pushed his gold-rimmed spectacles up and proceeded to lecture in sociological conditioning that bled into the psychological and revealed shadows of the personal. How these people were drunkards, that it was a nice gesture, but it would not help them or their condition. When Allister asked his companion what would, his companion did not know. And both could think of nothing more to say.
Eventually, Allister, left his companion somewhere between the sidewalk and his front door and eventually Allister had a late night snack and, after that, eventually he went to sleep. And his dreams were much like dreams tend to be, that wonderful mix of reflections and nonsense-which sometimes are reflections, too. Reflections of nonsense. There were floating quarters and dimes. And nickels and pennies. And some had wings and some had horns and some had nothing but simply coin qualities. And there was the shaking of the cups and there were eight armed fencing banjos for ridiculous measure. And to grasp the full scope of his dream, one must remember that eight-armed fencing banjos carry more than one picture. One can think of at least two, in fact. And one should. And think of these two pictures happening at once and combined with other unknown versions of what eight-armed fencing banjos mean. Then, one would have a glimpse of what Allister saw. To have the full impact, though, one would need to close one's eyes and sleep.
When Allister rose the next morning, he knew very little. He knew only that he would continue with his resolution. If there were nothing that could be done to make it better for panhandlers, beggars, and vagabonds and, in turn, Allister had change laying unused, where was the harm? Until Allister knew what could be done for permanent, he would acknowledge the request. It was ridiculous. True. But it, too, seems ridiculous to simply not answer.
One such resolution involved panhandlers, beggars, and vagabonds (and one should not say just one resolution, for many of Allister's resolutions involved panhandlers, beggars, and vagabonds. what one should say in all correctness is, "This particular resolution involved panhandlers, beggars, and vagabonds.).
It was simple as many of the finer things are. If Allister had anything in his pockets that he did not need, he gave it to the person shaking the cup. Quarters, nickels, dimes, pennies, and paper clips. If Allister did not need it at that moment, or some other moment in the foreseeable future, he tossed it.
This went on for some time as good resolutions will. Allister would nod to the panhandler, beggar, or/and vagabond and carry on his way-until, one day, when Allister happened to be with a companion. There was the shake of the cup. There was the discovery of unnecessary change. And there was the toss and the nod. And even the carry on his way. But, once he was on his way, his companion stopped him. Not near the soul who shook the cup. Heaven's no. This would have been in poor taste. It was, though, just around the corner from the soul who shook the cup.
Allister's companion asked for an explanation. When it was given, Allister's companion asked for an explanation beyond a resolution. Allister did not have one. So, his companion pushed his gold-rimmed spectacles up and proceeded to lecture in sociological conditioning that bled into the psychological and revealed shadows of the personal. How these people were drunkards, that it was a nice gesture, but it would not help them or their condition. When Allister asked his companion what would, his companion did not know. And both could think of nothing more to say.
Eventually, Allister, left his companion somewhere between the sidewalk and his front door and eventually Allister had a late night snack and, after that, eventually he went to sleep. And his dreams were much like dreams tend to be, that wonderful mix of reflections and nonsense-which sometimes are reflections, too. Reflections of nonsense. There were floating quarters and dimes. And nickels and pennies. And some had wings and some had horns and some had nothing but simply coin qualities. And there was the shaking of the cups and there were eight armed fencing banjos for ridiculous measure. And to grasp the full scope of his dream, one must remember that eight-armed fencing banjos carry more than one picture. One can think of at least two, in fact. And one should. And think of these two pictures happening at once and combined with other unknown versions of what eight-armed fencing banjos mean. Then, one would have a glimpse of what Allister saw. To have the full impact, though, one would need to close one's eyes and sleep.
When Allister rose the next morning, he knew very little. He knew only that he would continue with his resolution. If there were nothing that could be done to make it better for panhandlers, beggars, and vagabonds and, in turn, Allister had change laying unused, where was the harm? Until Allister knew what could be done for permanent, he would acknowledge the request. It was ridiculous. True. But it, too, seems ridiculous to simply not answer.
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