Would You Lie to a Monk?

A long time ago, I was walking around Manhattan, probably along the outskirts of Chinatown. I was minding my own business, walking along, when some guy, who seemed lost or something, stopped me. He gave me this whole big speech about what he did, and how he was all peaceful and never hurt a fly. Well, that’s a very abridged version of it, anyway. I kind of tuned him out, because I realized that he didn’t want directions, he wanted money.

Eventually, he got to the point, and asked me straight out for money. In his nice, long-winded way of his, of course. I lied and told him that I didn’t have any money. He asked, “You don’t have any money?” I told him no. He then said, “I’m a monk.” It was only then, did I notice his odd hat covering most of his head, with little to no hair showing. I forget.

Anyway, he then asked me, “You wouldn’t lie to a monk, would you?” I shyly replied, “Maybe…?” He then had a nice chuckle and rubbed my hair, and told me to get going. So I left.