The Bum

He was tall, skinny, dressed in rags.

His dirty feet, with long black toenails and skin that looked like cracked leather, in a pair of old thongs. He had curly brown hair, mostly in dreadlocks, and an unkept beard. His face never showed any expression, never happy, never sad, just blank.

Nobody ever heard him talk, maybe he couldn’t or maybe he just hadn’t anything to say. He was closer to an animal than a human being.

He used to sit in the park, on the ground, as if he knew he didn’t deserve to sit on a bench.

There was a lady who often took her child to the same park. She was well dressed and elegant and the girl, a cute little thing of about 3, in her pink dress, little white shoes and frilled socks.

The lady noticed the Bum and was disgusted that this worthless creature should be in that public place, as if he had any right to it. ‘Dirty animal,’ she thought, and tried to keep her daughter as far as possible from him.

***

It was a cold and rainy day. The Bum was sitting on the platform of the train station to keep away from the weather. Legs crossed, head hanging down; a pathetic sight. He smelled so bad that people kept well away from him.

It was on that same day, that the lady with the little girl in pink came to the station to catch the train. The little girl suddenly ran to the edge of the platform and fell onto the rails. The Bum saw. He also heard the train coming and, without hesitating, jumped after the girl and lifted her gently onto the platform.

Unfortunately, his thong got tangled on the rail and he couldn’t free his foot. The train tried to stop.

They moved the train back a bit and station staff members held the gathering crowd back as they surveyed the damage: fingers, an ear, lumps of bloody flesh and clothes scattered all over the place.

Right between the rails was his chest, intact. A sad sight; that chest and all that mess of flesh, blood and dirt was all that was left of the Bum. Not even his face. Even after death he was a faceless nobody.

The train driver, a young woman, was very upset and vomiting into a bag. Many passengers were sick too. The lady, clutching the little girl in her lap, was extremely distressed. A crowd formed around her, trying to calm her down.

People were leaving when the Ambulance and Police came. The forensics team gathered the Bum's remains and left. The police made some enquiries and stayed until the train was removed.

All his life, from birth to death the Bum was a pathetic, good for nothing thing ignored by all. Never a kind word, touch or look from anybody. This was probably the only time when people noticed him.

When the hospital received the body parts, they removed the heart and lungs, undamaged. They contacted an important person waiting for a heart transplant. It was a perfect match. The operation went well.

The heart, that only hours ago was slowly beating in that worthless chest, was now pumping life into the busy and important worthy man.

Body parts can be shared, we are all the same.

But some people have the good fortune of being born in the right place, with plenty of opportunities for success. Others never have a chance.

The Bum, never had a chance. He spent all his miserable life suffering, being looked down on by people; filthy, cold, hungry, homeless and without anything to wish for.

And in the end he gave all he had, his life, to two of the very people who would have never, ever given a damn about him.