Dan Kennedy (0:00)

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Jessica Lee Williamson (1:09)

Welcome to the Moth Podcast. I'm Dan Kennedy. This podcast is brought to you by Audible.com the Internet's leading provider of audiobooks with more than 100,000 downloadable titles across all types of literature. For the Moth listeners, Audible is offering a free audiobook to give you a chance to try out their service. You may like to consider listening to Salman Rushdie, best selling author and recipient of the 2008 Moth Award. In his newest book, Joseph Anton, he tells his own extraordinary story of being forced to live under constant police protection because of a death sentence placed on him for writing a novel. That's Joseph Anton by Salman Rushdie. It's available from Audible. To try Audible Free today and get a free audiobook of your choice, go to audible.comthemoth that's audible.comthemoth this week we bring you two stories from our Story Slam series. The first story by Jessica Lee Williamson was told live at the Moth this summer at our Grand Slam in la. The theme of the night was Strangers in celebration of the storytelling podcast called Strangers, which is produced by former Moth Executive Director Leah Tao. You can find that podcast@kcrw.com strangers or just search for KCRW strangers on iTunes. Okay, now let's hear Jessica's story.

Don Ray Smith (2:47)

The first time I saw the prostitute, she was dressed in sexy western wear and offering her services to an older black gentleman. He politely declined, but when her advances became more aggressive, his no thank you quickly escalated to a bitch, you're crazy. And then, last but not least, to get your pimply ass out of my face. That's when she shouted, you're just jealous because I'm white. And then she swung a bag full of groceries at his head. She missed, but it was still very dramatic because the plastic bag broke in midair, forcing me to jump over a jumbo 3 liter bottle of generic soda and a roll of toilet paper when they came barreling down the sidewalk at a high rate of speed. After that, I felt like we were only strangers in the sense that we hadn't been formally introduced. I ran into her a few nights later while I was out on a walk with my neighbor Bob. We found her laying in some bushes near a Roche Dress for Less, and she had lost a fist fight and crawled in there to hide. Her hand was broken and her eye was swollen shut. And at that point I invited her to come back to my apartment with me because I had made up my mind that I was going to be the person who was going to change this woman's life, and she reluctantly came along. As we were walking back, I found myself thinking about future conversations and all the ways I could casually mention that I once helped a prostitute turn her life around. I imagine people telling me what a good person I was and me telling them that I only did what anyone else would have done. A part of me felt bad for being an opportunist, and I wondered if I still would have helped her had my evening plans revolved around something more than reality television. But I realized that I wasn't the only one thinking those things, because halfway back to our building, Bob and I found ourselves embroiled in a passive aggressive Good Samaritan face off competing for the best person prize by one upping each other's good deeds. Bob gave the woman half of his granola bar. I told her I liked her shirt and asked her if she got it from Forever 21. She said, what the fuck is Forever 21? Then Bob pointed out that her shirt had grass stains and offered her a change of clothing. So I volunteered to wash her clothes by hand. By the time we got back to our building, I felt like the clear winner because when Bob offered her an ice pack, I topped it with the promise of some Advil and a ride to the hospital of her choice. But she was so sick of the back and forth that she told us we could both go fuck ourselves because she. She didn't need either one of us for shit. And in hindsight, why would she want our help? It wasn't coming from a genuine place and after all, it was probably a moment of need and the kindness of stranger that led her to a life of prostitution to begin with. But that's hindsight. In the moment, I still had my eye on the prize. So I gave her a blanket, one that my mother had made for me to really prove my level of commitment. And then my brilliant mind came up with the idea that if I couldn't bring her to the hospital, I was going to bring the hospital to her. So I called 911 from my apartment and told them there was an injured woman in distress out on the street. Fifteen minutes later I watched from my window as an ambulance and two fire trucks cornered her in a cul de sac. A fireman was on a loudspeaker repeating the phrase we only want to help. She just stood there, lit up by a high powered spotlight, wrapped up in my childhood blanket and kicking and spitting at anyone who went near her. And I'd say that that was when the hindsight kicked in. So I called 911 again and told them I felt really bad and I asked if we could call it off. But it was too late. I couldn't bear to watch anymore. So I closed my curtain and tried my best to forget about the whole thing. And when I woke up the next morning, I had forgotten. At least for a while. Anyway. I took my dog for a walk and three blocks from my house I found my blanket laying in the middle of the sidewalk as if it had just slipped off her shoulders while she ran away into the night trying to escape from the life that she knew and from the self serving kindness of strangers. Thank you.