The Great Pretender

It’s a little dreary out, but I took the walk downtown this morning. On the way, I was joined for a couple of blocks by a gentleman, perhaps in his mid-to-late-60s, clearly either drunk or high, who had been caught in the early-morning storm (you could tell because he was soaking wet).

He was singing one line from the Steve Miller Band’s “The Joker” over and over, and he asked me if I had heard the song “The Great Pretender,” which of course I had.

“That’s what I am, the great pretender,” he said.

He asked me to pick a number between one and ten in my head, and just be honest with him. I chose six.

“Is it an odd number?”

“No,” I said, knowing I left him with five to pick from.

“Eight,” he said, authoritatively.

“Not that one; you’ve got four left.”

“Four?” he tried.

“Sorry. I’ll give you three more guesses.”

“Six,” he finally got. “Let’s try again.”

This time I picked three.

“Is it an odd number?”

“Yes,” I told him.

“I’m getting strong vibes on two numbers.”

“Oh? Which two?” I asked.

“Three and five.”

“Well,” I said, “It is one of those. But which one?”

“Five,” he said, very sure of himself.

“No, I went with three this time.”

“Well,” he said, “whatever you do today, make sure you have a fantastic day.”

“That’s my only goal today, sir,” I told him. “You do the same.”