Vision of The Leech

The most beloved of creatures to constitute the freshwater ecosystems in today’s flowing streams and babbling brooks is the common leech. Certainly the most adorable of all aquatic parasites, they provide a nutritious morsel to predatory fish and water fowl alike. Who, among us has never, upon wading out into a shallow creek, perhaps to rescue a drowning child or retrieve a floating corpse, discovered one of such benevolent annelids clinging to your ankle, only to cast the poor creature away with the aid of a lit matchstick or a grain of salt?

Human leeches, on the contrary, are a much more challenging pest to rid oneself of, particularly when federal law frowns upon the deliberate immolation of one’s fellow man, regardless of how much of a nuisance they may be. Such were the ruminations of one Sergej Vodenicharov, upon being stopped in the town square by yet another blubbering charity case. 
“Could I borrow a minute of your time Sir?” meekly asked the young, brown-eyed lady.
Sergej would have undoubtedly cast this human leech aside, had he not been initially captivated by the beauty of the young woman. These charities were growing ever more cunning, strategically employing attractive people to more effectively peddle their lowly, pathetic causes. The girl wore a tight black polo shirt with a World Vision logo stitched onto the right breast.
“I’m sorry miss. I have a meeting I must go to and I’m already running late.”
Despite his rejection, the young lady was persistent.
“It will only take a minute of your time sir. What’s one more minute to you if you’re running late anyways?”
“Very well, but do hurry.”
“Sir, did you know that forty-two percent of Azerbaijani children between the ages of six and ten live below the poverty line? Every day, these poor youngsters struggle to find adequate sustenance, only to do so in vain, as rich white Americans such as yourself squander all the world’s wealth which could otherwise have been used to feed these poor, misfortunate, hungry, lonely, disparaged children.”
She had recited the aforementioned dialogue as if from memory. Sergej could have guessed that she had more of a vested interest in her commission than she did for these disparaged children of whom she spoke. She held a clipboard in her left hand, writing something down which he could not see.
“Uh, no, I did not. I really have to get going now. It’s already been one...”
“Sir, did you know that for the miniscule payment of just three dollars a day, you can help to purchase a goose and a sheep for one of these poor, forsaken, misshapen, beggarly, destitute, needy, impoverished, underprivileged, meagre, indigent, poor little souls? If you can afford one of those coffees a day, surely you can help a small child in need.”
“I am very sorry, but I really must...”
“Please sir, Abdul would appreciate your generosity so very much.”
She produced a photograph of a young boy—clearly malnourished. He wore tattered rags and held forth a begging bowl. The boy had large, sad eyes and the light in which the photograph was taken emphasised the tears streaming down his cheeks.
“While I agree that the situation of these Azerbaijani children is indeed dire, I really have to...”
“Oh sir, if only the rest of the rich white imperialists were as generous as you are, maybe the world’s poverty problem would disappear.”
If one removes an attached leech by force, as opposed to salting it or burning it off, the creature’s sucker remains embedded in your flesh and causes a rather painful sore that can last up to several weeks. Likewise, if one were to merely walk away, engaged in mid-conversation with one of these human-leeches without adequately disposing of them, the sore that would develop from doing so could induce severe mental frustrations and suppressed rage later on.
“May I ask why you’re doing this to yourself?”
The girl looked perplexed.
“You can drop the act. Look, I know employment is difficult to come by these days with the economy in the state that it’s in, but I would really like to know why a capable young woman such as yourself feels the need to lower herself to such humiliating and degrading labour. Every day, you people stand on the same street corners, preying on the same misbegotten passersby, and yet, you never cease to be cast aside as the parasitic creatures you so plainly are. Do these charities really pay you so well that you’re willing to embarrass yourself like this every day?”
She quivered a bit, looking down at her clipboard, which undoubtedly held a list of generic responses to the excuses with which they were most commonly presented.
“Um, well if it’s an issue with money you have, World Vision offers a very affordable payment plan. Surely you can afford our very low premium package of only two five dollar payments a week?”
Sergej snatched the clipboard from her hands and smashed it to the pavement.
“How does it feel to be but a mere pawn? You are a tool to be utilized by these giant philanthropic organisations to acquire profit for them! Such a small percentage of the money you’re leeching off of honest, hardworking citizens will go to these children which you claim to care so much about. You’re only lining the pockets of CEOs and corrupt businessmen who are no less despicable than yourself. If you really cared so much about the welfare of these children, you would move to Azerbaijan and help them directly. However, the corporations by which you are employed only seek to use the logical fallacy of emotional appeal to sap money from gullible, albeit well-meaning people and use it to buy themselves mansions and private jets. You ought to be ashamed of yourself for acting as an accomplice to this most detestable affair!”
And with that, Sergej walked away, leaving the young lady with a feeling reminiscent of a leech that had just been dowsed with salt.