Sometimes you have to laugh, even when it's not funny. The third strike against homeless people is that almost all of them are drunk or strung out or schizophrenic, so they can barely communicate with straight people. Uncle Joe, for example, was obsessed with conveying to me the fact that he could have me killed, the point being that I should be grateful to him that I was still alive. And I was. He also pointed out all the other people in the room that he could have killed, which included everybody. So maybe he would have had to bring in the killers from outside. He said that God told him to come talk to me. I asked him if God told him not to have me killed, and he said "not yet."
Just so you don't jump to any conclusions, this isn't anything I would have ever done on my own. I have a friend who's one of these damn do-gooders, and she makes me do awful things. But everyone should have one friend like that. It builds character.