You know you read too much True Crime when …

… you’re walking through an underground shopping centre car park and a guy in a wheelchair, his left leg right angled and bristling with one of those metal pins-and-braces deals they put on for really bad injuries, calls out to you as you approach and asks if you can help him get his chair into the back of his station wagon, and you find yourself keeping a subtle but minimum safe distance while surreptitiously inspecting said pins to make sure they actually do go all the way into his leg, and that the awful knee-to-ankle scar is real and not made from latex, before saying, "Sure, no problem at all."

Just in case, you know, he’s trying to pull a Ted Bundy on your arse.

So you help him with his crutches and fold away his chair and close the back of his station wagon for him, learning all the while how he was down from far north Queensland on holidays, only he had a motorcycle accident, and now there is a bone infection, and so he’s stuck here in Melbourne for at least three more months with the stupid wheelchair that’s too heavy for him to get in and out of his car easily on his own.

And he thanks you and says, "It good to know there are still nice people in the world." And you smile and wish him as speedy a recovery as possible, and walk away feeling good but still mentally tallying up the good samaritan points (which surely must offset some of the wicked things you’ve done, or are planning to do), andrealise that here you are all dressed in black in the height of Melbourne summer, wearing your I Killed Amanda Palmer t-shirt no less, stalking through an underground car park in your sunglasses and boots, and maybe the poor helpless guy in the wheelchair was just a little trepidatious about asking for your help.

Just in case, you know, you mugged him for his groceries or something instead.

But yes, it is good to know there are still nice people in the world. Get well soon, broken leg dude. Hope you make it back home before winter.

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