Jim asked me to pick up a oil based space heater for him inside the city that I’m currently residing in. I can’t quite express to you enough how ready I am to vacate this place. Upon arrival at my destination to exchange cash for this heater I was greeted by a nice woman who took me through her apartment to the space heater. Upon the time that I made contact with her I had noticed a few kids playing in the yard adjacent to the building. Nearly two steps up the porch I suddenly heard this following:
Hey mom! Look at this. What do you want me to do with it?
There before me stood a small boy, I’m guessing around the age of 12, holding in his left hand a syringe that had obviously already been used, and he had located it while playing in the grass with his friends and siblings.
Jesus! That’s a #%!$ dirty needle. Don’t you ever touch one of those again, just call someone over. Ugh! Just give it to me.
The scariest part (not the first time I’ve been around a dirty needle) was watching this woman throw the exposed needle away inside the standard trash receptacle in their kitchen. Granted, she followed up by washing her hands thoroughly, but seeing a young child just hold up a needle like that is truly one of the more disturbing things anyone is going to witness within their lifetime.
Get me out of this place.