A BUM STOOD AT THE QUICK CHECK RIGHT IN FRONT OF WASHINGTON AND LITTLE. HE WAS BEGGING FOR MONEY. HE LOOKED PRETTY PATHETIC,DRESSED IN RANCID, OILY CLOTHES. HE SMELLED LIKE CIGERETTES AND URINE. "CAN YOU SPARE A DIME?" HE WOULD ASK. PEOPLE WOULD SHAKE THEIR HEADS OR WALK WAY AROUND HIM. HE WAS GETTING NOWHERE. TWO HOURS WENT BY, NO MONEY, NOT A CENT. "PLEASE, A DIME!" CRIED THE BUM. A MIDDLE AGED MAN WALKED BY HIM, HEARD HIS PLEA AND LAID UPON HIM A MINT NEW DIME FROM HIS PANTS POCKETS. "THANK YOU, SIR! THANK YOU!" SHOUTED THE BUM. A DIME IN HAND, THE BUM LIMPED OVER TO A PHONE BOOTH AND CALLED IN THE AIR STRIKE.
