Scagway Enterprises

Presents: Caribou Lou Meets

Sam the Bum
By: Brian Gallagher
Caribou Lou was walking down the street at night, head hung low, and his hands in the pockets
of his beige coat. He had a cigarette hanging low from his lips. His baseball cap was pulled down
just enough to cover his eyes from passersby. He saw a sign in front of a hotel that said, “No
Smoking- Violators will be penalized.” He stopped and thought, gimme a break! He felt a cause
brewing up inside; thoughts of open rebellion rushed through his inebriated mind! Then it hit
him...or rather a lady hit him. She was a tall old bag, and she wielded her hand bag with
ferocity. He could not fathom as to what had upset her.

Caribou: “Cool it lady, what's your problem?”

Lady: “Can't you read you moronic, tinsel brained, shin licking, dog!”

Caribou: “How did you know my fetish is shin licking?”

Lady: “Ugh, says NO SMOKING!”

Caribou: "Huh, oh that?" he pointed to the sign with his middle finger in disdain, "That is an
abhorrent fixture upon that building, for it goes against the very being of mankind."

Lady: "The only thing abhorrent is your breath. It smells like a pig’s ass!" She kicked him in the
groin for good measure and walked inside the building.

Caribou Lou was holding his sack for a good long time until he felt his strength return. As he
regained feeling in his left nad he could heard laughter nearby and saw in the distance a mound
of trash with what looked to be a human head jutting from atop its peak. It lay in the middle of
the street on a highway divider.

He walked over to the pile of garbage and saw it held a sign that read, "Say No To
Douchebags!". Good advice, he thought, and noticed the man's face in the dim orange glow
emitting from the street lamp. The man's face was covered in grime and soot and his head
lolled lazily amid the trash around him.

Caribou: “Why say no to douchebags?” he asked as he studied the man’s wrinkly, dirty face.

The bum grunted incoherently.

Caribou: “Did you make this sign?”

The bum mumbled something about a Salisbury steak.

Caribou: “Um…how long have you been out here?”

The bum just gave a blank stare and blurted out laughter for no apparent reason.

Caribou: "Mind if I join your protest?" he asked as he began sitting down next to the bum.

The Bum just continued rolling his head around making smacking noises with his dirty chapped
lips. Caribou tried politely to make him stop, but to no avail.

Morning fast approached and the two sat on the divider awaiting any potential douchebags to
protest. Traffic began building up steadily producing charitable drivers who threw change at
them, although one man in a blue Saab threw coffee in Caribou's face.

Caribou: "Ugh, did you see that Sam?” Caribou was wiping his face with a soiled newspaper,
“That was a douchebag all right; I could see it in his eyes!"

Caribou wasn't sure what the bum's real name was, but Sam seemed to fit so he stuck with it.
Hours went by, as did pedestrians on the sidewalks of either side. They averting their attention
from the mound of trash infested with two derelict men with no jobs and no life. These people
were definitely douchebags in Caribou's eyes, for who were they to judge Sam and himself?
Caribou was playing around with an empty glass bottle and was getting way too bored to sit any
longer.

Caribou: Break time Sam, do you want anything to eat?

Sam just sat there like a quadriplegic, with his head lolling around.

Caribou: “How ‘bout I bring you back an olive loaf samich, ok? Just keep an eye on our sign. I'll
be right back.”

Caribou ran across the street towards the Korean deli called Food Mart. Lou could never
understand why foreigners couldn’t come up with more original names for their shops.

Unbeknownst to Lou, the sun blazing in the clear blue sky was shining through the glass bottle
Lou left behind. The light began burning the newspaper covering good ole Sam. The pile was
soon ablaze and poor ole Sam was too much of a bum to escape.

Caribou, in the meantime, was in the deli trying to explain what an olive loaf was; even though
the owner told him he didn't carry it. Behind, where Caribou was standing and arguing, was the
storefront window that looked out to the street. In plain view was the sight of a large fire that
had now consumed most of Sam and his pile of trash. There were cars slamming their breaks
and people running over to the scene trying to save the bum, but with the immense heat and
the wild flames, a rescue was too risky. Instead, they tried futilely to put out the flames with
water bottles and other liquids from various onlookers who stopped. Sirens blazed from a fire
engine nearing and a few police cruisers pulled up to assess the situation.
It was a very sad site indeed. Sam, the bum, who had staked out this little concrete divider for
himself as his home, was now charred up and unrecognizable from the numerous other items
that lay by his side. Caribou was now walking towards his late friend and pushed through the
throng of people holding his turkey samich and his 20oz bottle of coke.

Caribou: “Oh no, what happened?”

Bystander: “It's horrible. There was a homeless man among the pile of garbage. It caught fire
and....”

Caribou: "The sign!" he gasped, "What happened to that sign?" he asked while looking
erratically for the sign that the bum had held.

Bystander: “Wh…what sign sir? Were you with him before the fire?”

Caribou paid the man no attention and continued pushing his way towards the scene of horror.

Fireman: “Hey, hold on sir, you cannot go pass here!” He ordered.

Caribou: “Look, fireman, I am looking for a sign Sam so handily crafted, he had it with him! It
had a clever, but snarky slogan on it.”

Fireman: “Sir, everything was burned up, if there was a sign it was destroyed, now please move
back.”

Caribou: “Christ....he never even got his olive loaf samich.”

Caribou began walking away towards the bench across the way. He was munching on his turkey
sub and chugging his coke when he noticed a fireman holding what looked to be a sign, barely
making out the word "bag" on it. "That's it!" he thought. After laying his samich and coke on the
bench he bolted towards the firemen.

Caribou: “Hey, douchebag that sign is mine!”

Fireman: “What the hell did you call me asshole?”

Caribou: “The sign, it's mine.”

Fireman: “Hey, buddy! Go fuck yourself, eh?”

Caribou: “No!” Protested Lou, by summoning his dead partner’s protesting powers.

Fireman: “Huh?” Grunted a confused fireman, who sensed Lou’s growing aura of protestation.
Caribou: “No!” He pumped his fist in the air,” Just say no to douchebags!”

Fireman: “What the hell are you talking about?”

Caribou started chanting his new powerful slogan, “No, just say no to Douchebags.” The
firemen and cops began laughing at Lou, but suddenly the people surrounding the area began
joining in the chant. "No, just say no to douchebags!" was chanted louder and louder. It wasn't
long before every bystander was chanting, even though all were clueless as to why they were
doing so. It just felt right to do it. Caribou wiped a tear from his eye and thought, "This one's for
you, Sam.". He then noticed his turkey sub and coke were now running down the street in the
clutches of some kid. Caribou book it and ran towards the kid.

Caribou: “Hey you, kid get back here! I spent $7.50 for that? Do you know what I had to do for
that $7.50?”

And nobody did want to hear of that tale, because it was disgusting. For Sam, the bum, his
legendary sign making abilities had brought on the new slogan. It appeared throughout the city
that summer at all the pubs, baseball games, pool halls, clubs, or any other place where
inebriated folk hang out. "Just say no to douchebags!" lived on in the hearts of millions because
of one man, named Sam.