The end of the Goofy saga.

A recap:

Goofy is a homeless man who showed up at the house a few weeks ago. We fed him, and he came back. We bought food for him and his campmate, Richard (who we knew from our first outreach). We went so far as to do his laundry. Then, we discovered that he had been lying to us.

Goofy told us that he had esophageal cancer. He doesn't. He is addicted to prescription pain pills, and uses fake cancer as his ruse to get pain pills. Based upon that, and several other things (like him and Richard showing up at our house so drunk they could barely stand, repeatedly), we decided that we could no longer help him, or have him come to our house. We would send him in the direction of resources, but we could not have him in our lives if he was going to take advantage of it.

We had arranged to meet Goofy last Wednesday, 6:30 PM at the park by our house. We were going to give him food, and tell him that was it. He never showed. We waited 30 minutes, and he never came.

Now that you're caught up:

Last night at 10:15, the phone rang. It was an Evansville number that I didn't recognize. I answered (which, if you know me, is a minor miracle in itself). It was Goofy - and wow, was he hammered.

"We were wondering if you could help us out with some food."

My first instinct was yes. After all, Amy and I are called to feed homeless people - there is no question about that. And we had a bag of food in my car that we had bought for him, after all. He even played the "We haven't eaten yet today" card, which tears at me in a way I don't quite understand.

But then I paused. "Where ya been, man? We haven't seen you in a few days."

"Yeah, I was in the hospital with a cracked tooth. I bit down on something that had a bone in it, and cracked a tooth, so I was in the hospital for a few days."

They don't keep you for 48 hours for childbirth anymore - much less a cracked tooth. I have yet to see anyone hospitalized for a cracked tooth. And anyway, it's very hard to have a cracked tooth when you have full dentures. (The first thing he ever asked us to buy him was denture cream. Wonder if he thought we forgot that?) Cracked dentures don't get you a hospital visit - they get you a tube of super glue.

Apart from that, it was 10:15 at night, and he hadn't eaten - but he did have enough money to manage to get booze. Seriously? You're going to spend all your money on liquor, and then decide to call me because you don't have food? No. I am called to do outreach - not handouts.

So, I went against every instinct I have, and did the most heartless thing I could do.

I told a hungry man no.

It was the right thing to do. It was what I was supposed to do. It was, for my safety and the safety of my family, what I needed to do.

And none of that helped me sleep last night.

Today, at 11:15AM, he called Amy. He, again, asked if we could get him some food. Amy was at work, and she very bluntly told him that we were at work and could not help him any more. She pointed him in the direction of several resources, and even gave him names of people to talk to at agencies.

At 6:45 tonight, the phone rang. It was Richard. He asked us if we could help them with food. We were much nicer to Richard - but, again, we told him that we could not.

Interesting that they had money to get minutes for their cell phone - but they didn't have money for food. They had money for booze - but they didn't have money for food.

It's raining outside right now. Thunder, lightning, the works. All I can think of is those two guys, sleeping under a bridge. I prayed earlier for them to get food. I'm irritated and saddened that it had to come to this - but we simply had no choice. I know that.

But it's still not going to be easy to sleep tonight.