From 'Harribald Flortheimer's Books of Maxims' (Vol. XXXVII, Chapter XII, Lines 432-33 [G])

"Should a single penny drop into a toilet, there will be many cries, and much wailing and gnashing of teeth; but not a single soul shall notice that the house is burning down."

The Polite Society

Max Carver broke into as fast of a run as he possibly could when he spotted the northbound bus behind him. It was barely half a block south and Max's stop was at least a block and a half or so north. If he didn't get to it before the bus did, there would be no telling how much longer it would be until the next bus came along. He was already late enough for the office as it was.

He felt every day of his forty-odd years of walking the Earth as he sprinted toward the bus stop, constantly looking back over his shoulder. The bus was hurtling down the street at increasing velocity. Meanwhile, the faster Max ran to his bus stop, the farther away it seemed to be.

"How is that possible?" thought Max.

The bus was gaining, gaining, gaining...

He finally reached the stop and nearly ran right smack into an elderly lady with a little pushcart full of groceries. She reflexively shrunk away at the oncoming onslaught of Max Carver hurtling toward her, with a frightened yelp escaping her mouth. The bus arrived at just that moment.

"Watch it, jackass!" snapped the old lady.

"I'm...I'm...I'm so...I'm so...so-...sorr...so sorr...," wheezed Max. "So sorry!" Max was relieved that he stopped just in time, just before he would've completely plowed into her. He meditated for a brief moment on what an incomprehensibly ugly scene that would have been.

The bus driver gave Max a strange look as he stumbled onto the bus behind the old lady, panting heavily, and paid his fare.

He plopped into an empty seat and continued his labored breathing. After taking a good ten minutes or so to catch his breath, he pulled out a book from his messenger bag.

HOW TO MAKE NEW FRIENDS AND BEND OTHERS TO YOUR WILL

by 

DON HARVARDLY

Max had been spending the better part of the past month working his way through the book, taking notes on all the advice it offered, in order to, as the title suggested, make new friends and bend others to his will. His uncle had suggested he read it after hearing Max complain about his lot in life, which he found disappointing and unsatisfactory most of the time. 

"Best decision I ever made, reading that book," his uncle informed him. Though his uncle was never what anyone would consider to be a successful man, Max took his suggestion and laid his hands on a copy at the local library. (His uncle was unable to locate his own copy after a thoroughly rigorous search of his home and garage that took the better part of two or three days, or so his uncle said.) Reading was slow going, as Max had a very hard time deciphering what exactly the author was advising. It seemed to be written in a strange jargon wholly invented by the author himself. Max had begun to wonder if the whole thing wasn't some kind of joke. 

Max suddenly thought he heard the man sitting in the seat across from him say something to him. He looked up from his book and locked eyes with the stranger for a moment, but his fellow passenger was silent. Having decided that he was hearing things, Max went back to his book.

"A man don't need to be ignorin' another man who is just tryin' to have a polite conversation."

It was the man sitting across from him. This time Max heard him quite clearly.

"Beg your pardon?" asked Max.

"I said--a man don't need to be ignorin' another man who is just tryin' to have a polite conversation."

"I'm sorry, did you say something to me before? I must have been--"

"All I did was ask you about that book you was readin', if it was a good book or not. But you seemed fixed on ignorin' me."

"I apologize, I--"

"Damn right, you apologize."

Max and the other man continued to look at one another for a good thirty seconds. Then he heard the automatic attendant announce his next stop. "Thank God," he thought to himself as he put his book back into his bag and rose to get off the bus.

"Have a nice day," said his fellow passenger.

"Hey, you know what? You have a nice day, too! Okay? Have a really, really nice day!"

"Thank you. I will."

It was at the very moment the bus door opened, just as Max was about to step off, that he heard the man say, "Prick."

Incredulous, Max turned back to face him. Max looked him right in the eyes.

"Go be a prick on your own time," the man advised Max.

"Prick." Max heard the charge one last time as he stepped off the bus.

It echoed in his mind throughout the rest of his day.

The Master Plan

I had come upstairs from the laundry room. My wife had a frightened look in her eyes, which bugged out of her head like a pair of extra large hard boiled eggs.

"Didn't you hear me calling you?" she asked.

"No, I guess not," I answered, removing my earbuds. I like to listen to music and podcasts and such while I'm doing laundry.

"There was a man standing out there, he looked like he was probably homeless," she said, gesturing to the kitchen window that looked out into the back yard. "He was right by the garage, leaning on the gate." She hesitated a moment. "He was looking right at me, like he was looking right into my eyes." She paused a moment. "He had dead eyes."

"Where'd he go?"

"I started to open the window and he walked away into the alley."

I decided to take a drive around the block to see if I could find him. Sure enough, I spotted him on my second pass around. He was walking down the alley that ran behind our apartment building. He was a fairly large man, well over 6', 4", easily 230-250 lbs. He wore a navy blue hoody with some kind of red poncho or blanket draped around his shoulders. There was a slow, lumbering gait to his walk. He sauntered into the street that dead ended at the river. Then I saw him sit down on some kind of a post in the cul-de-sac that separated two industrial buildings. It appeared as though he was planning on making himself at home for awhile.

I drove a ways down the street and parked the car. I decided that this may not be a very good situation. There were children in the neighborhood. Who knew what this guy's story was. Was he dangerous? Mentally ill? The little nook where he was sitting was an area that neighborhood kids frequently played at, including my young son. It's best not to risk it, I thought, so I called the police on my cell phone and explained the situation to them. I waited around until they arrived.

I got out of my car when I saw the police cruiser drive to where the homeless man had situated himself so I could see what was happening, but I made sure to keep a safe distance. I was still close enough to overhear the conversation.

"Come on, Carl, you know you can't stay around here," I heard one of the cops say to the homeless man. "You're spooking the neighbors. There are kids here."

"Go to Uptown," said the other cop. "Nobody cares up there. You'll blend in fine."

A few minutes passed as the cops and Carl just stared at each other.

"Fine," Carl finally said, clearly annoyed.

He started to walk away from the cops, but then he saw me. He stopped about ten or fifteen feet from me. Our eyes met. He gave me this huge, weird smile.

"It's all good," he said to me. "It's all part of my master plan, anyways." He chuckled and pointed to his head. "I have a master plan up here. It's very detailed." His chuckle turned into sustained laughter as he walked right past me toward the nearest main street.

As he stumbled on his way, laughing, he turned back to me one last time.

"It's all part of my master plan! You! Them! You're all part of it! You're all part of my master plan!"

As he walked away, his voice echoed and reverberated with "My master plan!' and his boisterous laughter.

"My master plan-an-an-an-an-an...!"

The sound of his laughter slowly died off as he grew smaller with the distance.