Sainthood is an ugly business fraught with politics, chicanery, and deceit, and is therefore beneath someone of such obvious magnanimity and compassion as yourself. Your heroism, Baxter, is its own reward. Imagine your friend waking up in a dumpster with all his bones and organs removed. Rough night. Not even a 5 Hour Energy will get you out of that deal.
I have to admit, however, that the skeptic in me is a bit troubled by the whole dumpster organ-harvesting scheme. Don’t get me wrong: The idea has its points. For instance: Probably the last place on Earth I would look for a donor organ would be in a dumpster. I can say this with a certain amount of authority because I am no stranger to the art of dumpster diving. Back in first grade my friend Dimitri and I dug up a veritable mother lode of porn mags. It was a treasure haul that in the world of dumpster diving ranks somewhere up there with something like the discovery of the Atocha. It was, to say the least, an embarrassment of riches.
Getting a mother lode of dirty mags from a dumpster is one thing; getting a dirty replacement kidney with a side of E. coli is something else entirely. My guess is that whatever Chinese/Russian/Somali organ-harvesting outfit this lady worked for would surely pop for a Super 8 (or more likely a motel with a working ice machine), but all I know about the outlaw organ-harvesting business is what I read on Snopes, and they say it doesn’t exist – kind of like global warming, CIA rendition sites, and herd immunity.
Let’s just assume for a sec that the crazy homeless lady wasn’t a freelance organ harvester. Maybe she did roofie your friend in order to bone him in a dumpster (and BT dubs, that would definitely make her crazy). I’m no statistician, but my guess is that the instances of roofie rape in dumpsters by crazy homeless-looking ladies in Austin (dare I say America?) is hovering at just below zero percent. That doesn’t make you less of a saint, Baxter, but it does make you a bit of a fabulist. Well done, my friend, well done.