How Many the Refugees Does it Take to Screw in a Lightbulb?

Trick question. Too drunk to stand on a ladder and too poor to afford lightbulbs. Plus, the Refugee is better off living in darkness and not having to see the squalor of his home.

Last night, I found the Refugee and another large lout loitering outside my home. They were smoking beanies, you know, those cheap cigarettes wrapped in brown tobacco paper that Indian peasants smoke for the high. Anyway, they were buzzing on high-dose nicotine while trespassing on my estate - a trangression I allow to provide a refuge for the lost and downtrodden - in darkness, for the back porchlight had fizzled. the Refugee pointed this out to me, because he would actually like to see something nice every now and then. I told him I'd get management on the case and his world was blown, again. He made a snide remark about my life of leisure and luxury and then convulsed in anger and jealousy, I'm pretty sure he shit his pants, but that might just be the way he smells. Anyway, I offered him a dollar and a cracker if he changed the lightbulb himself, which he attempted but failed. First we tried a ladder, but he couldn't get the footing because he was so damn wasted from alcohol and dizzy from poor man's tobacco. After a second attempt on the ladder, he fell and hit his head and started crying. So I kicked him in the ribs and prodded him to get up and try again. He cursed and tried to crawl up the ladder, which, of course, didn't work. He started crying harder, which was an upsetting spectacle, so I gave him the cracker and went inside without the lightbulb being changed. Management is aware and on the case. the Refugee is sore and brokenhearted.