Good deed for the day.

Whilst travelling home from work on Tuesday I was going down the escalator at Kings Cross when I looked down and there at my feet was a roll of tenners. It isn't every day this happens.
It wasn't a small sum of money - more than a hundred quid, I'd guess, rolled in an elastic band. My immediate reaction was predictable. "Waahooo!" I thought. "This will buy me the new pair of Oakley's I've been lusting after!"
I picked it up and looked about and there, at the bottom of the escalator, was a bloke looking bemused and feeling in his pockets. He hadn't seen me, and, if it was his money, he plainly had no idea I had it.

A little red version of myself holding a pitchfork appeared on my shoulder. "Keep it", said my evil side.
I nodded. My evil side made a good, sensible-sounding case.
After a very long pause, another figure, this of myself in robes with a harp appeared on my right shoulder.
"Hello", I said. "I haven't seen much of you lately."
With vocal cords long unused, my good side struggled to speak for a moment. It shrugged. "There's not been much for me to do.", it said. "Give his his money back. It's his, not yours."
"Ah", pitched in my evil side. "But he's got a wad of tenners and you haven't. That means if you keep it then it wouldn't be theft, it would be redistribution of wealth. That's how it works, you know."
I nodded again. My evil side was talking a lot of sense.
My good side cried out in horror. "You sound like Gordon Brown!", it cried.
I cursed. My good side was right.


"Scuse me", I said. "Have you lost some money?"
"Yeah?", he replied, hopefully.
"How much. It's not like I'm just going to hand it over."
"A roll of notes?"
"Damn. You win."
I gave him his money and went off to Ninja High, wondering if the expression of surprise and gratitude on his face was worth a wad of cash to me.