A Nice Gesture

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It´s time for breakfast, I switch off the computer and go down the block to a local restaurant. They serve nice, Mexican cusine, and I like the empanadas a lot. I have them with mushrooms, or chicken pieces. And I go there to socialize. No, I have to correct that, I go there to show my face. I´m just running a marketing campaing in this neighborhood, I’ve got leaflets in all the shops and restaurants, complete with photos of that handsome language teacher who is offering tailored language lessons for young and old alike. Sitting at the bar, waiting for my breakfast, I get to talk to this nice gentleman, little younger than I. He´s pretty smart and educated and, with what I’ve heard so far in our previous chats, got an alcohol problem. But that’s beside the point. I talk to him a little about happiness, controling one´s emotions, and end up with Gautama Buddha. He was a real nice guy. Story goes, at the very old age of 80 something, he got killed by poison. It was at a banquet prepared in his honor, and there was this vindictive little student who for some reason had a lot of accumulated resentment against his master. He offered him a drink, and Buddha knew that it was poisoned. He wanted to do the guy a favor and drank it anyway. But that’s not the story I told my new friend. We were talking about other people treating us badly, offending and insulting us, the works. And I told him the (other) little story about Buddha. Apparently a fellow showed up and threw a lot of insults at him, but Buddha just kept smiling. That really enraged the other guy, and he asked how it could be possible to remain calm and smiling in the face of such abuse. Buddha just answered:If somebody offers you a gift, and you refuse to accept it, who keeps the gift? My new friend apparently liked the story so much, he paid my breakfast for me. Truth Or Fiction?