From Radio to homeless to ???
The board table was filled with some of the tops in the community, “No-hair Harry”, “Windshield Wally”, and of course “BP Bob”. It was the monthly meeting held under the freeway in the part of town where no one drove. You got off on the access road at your own risk and the junkies and dealers were peddling their wares to whoever would listen.
“Now look guys, it’s time for quality review time,” said No-hair Harry.
“Aren’t you going to open the meeting in a civilized way Harry,” BP Bob interrupted. “we aren’t all neanderthals, we’re just homeless.”
“Fine, I call to order this meeting of the International Brotherhood of Homeless, Hobos and Street Performers Chapter 806,” Harry said with a smile.
“Move to waive the reading of the minutes,” No-teeth Natalie tried to say but it came out where noone could really understand her. She just needed to feel like she had a purpose in life.
“Ok, let’s move on. Now let’s see everyone’s signs,” Windshield Wally said as he held his own up (Will wash your windshield for $5 or best offer).
All around the broken table that was held up with two shopping carts the members held up their signs one by one.
(Will Work For Food) – said White Trash Sally’s. “Good,” everyone said.
One nut Neil held up his sign and everyone started to laugh.
“What, what’s wrong? What did I do this time,” he said as he turned his sign around to look at it. “I changed it from the last one. I wasn’t getting any money and mostly got middle fingers with (Will have sex for food).”
“Now, look Neil, we’re homeless not illiterate,” Airhead Angela said.
“Yeah, I like the words but do you want the people that look at your sign say “I’m gonna hand the homeless guy a dollar and tell him to buy himself a vowel,” BP Bob laughed”
One Nut Neil looked at his sign. All it said was (I used to be an accountant plese help me with a dollar).
“What?”
“Would you like an A Vanna,” BP Bob said?
Neil jumped up and crossed pushing Soup kitchen Sandra to the ground as he tried to get to Bob, “Just because you screwed up the Gulf doesn’t mean I’ll feel any pity for you as I start kicking your ass up and down the hood Bob.”
As he got closer and closer to Bob the Peacemaker got between the two of them holding up a glass filled with what could best be described as prison punch.
“Why don’t you two just have a drink and relax,” he said and pushed the glass in Neil’s face.
Neil took a sip and started to gag, “this is worse than the last batch you made up, what did you put in it, lighter fluid?”
“Actually a tablespoon of battery acid for that extra pick me up,” Peacemaker said as everyone gathered around for their taste of the kidney killing nectar.
Sandra interrupted with a “remember that the south side soup kitchen has bran muffins this week!” This was greeted with cheers!
“Everyone remember the cops will looking in the north side this week so lets keep our activities to the east and south until the heat cools down and remember, we have our standards, don’t be like Big Voice Ted and try to go big time,” No-hair Harry said.
“Yeah. he doesn’t even remember I gave him that piece of cardboard. He owes me 14.85% of his future earnings.” One Nut Neil said.
“I hope people remember that this could happen to them if things don’t change soon,” Bad beard Barry said as the meeting broke up.
“Well, more homeless could mean more membership dues, and just think of the strike fund that we can have,” said Tranny Taglibue.
As one by one they left for their assigned areas One Nut Neil was scratching out his new masterpiece.
(Bet ya can’t hit me with a quarter)
“That’ll do it! I’ll be eating at the dollar menu by lunch today.”
Categories: My Writing... Tags: Homeless, Joanna, Quick Story, Quotes, Writing Challenge
We all travel a road where we try to get somewhere. We have plans, ideas, looking for the right exit.
But sometimes, the right play is to keep driving, sleep when you are tired and eat when you are hungry, until you get to the destination you wanted to get to in the first place.
But there are no turn around lanes on this highway, just a lonely road of twists and turns that anger, confuse and sometimes sadden us.
But the road continues on and we have to travel to places where we intend to go even if the path is long and winding.
The last month or so, I’ve seen my friends come close, my acquaintances move further away and the people who would back my plays actually back my plays.
And it feels good.
Yesterday the boss called me up out of nowhere to tell me that I had been doing an exceptional job on the project that I was working on.
Did he have to? No.
Did it make me want to drive further on the road, probably.
Because the road is whatever you want it to be, your career, family or your play at the tables. You have choices and sometimes you get lost making the left turn at Albuquerque.
But you never lose by taking the trip. Sometimes the best trips are down to the store where you learn something just by watching someone.
This evening I had a moment like that. It started at a mirror at a retailer. I passed by the mirror and looked at my face. Not at the person, but at the face. And in some cases, I didn’t recognize who I was. I saw the body, but not the soul. But I saw the maturity and the gray hair that had accompanied my receding hairline.
I’m not 40 and I look like this.
But as I’m trying this year to look at the gold and not the just the wood slivers in my soul, I saw a man.
A man pushing a cart down the aisle. His hair was mussed and he smelled of urine. He was obese and looked like his life was challenged enough in the first place.
He had a box of cereal, and a spoon in his cart and he paid with pennies and change, refusing all help from the checker and myself.
“This is the road I’ve chosen and I’ll go as I please,” he said as he was escorted from the store.
The man was happy in what he had, and I couldn’t understand that.
Why would he be happy as miserable as he looked and probably was? Where did he live and what did he do?
But as I ran out of the store to look for the man in the snow and the ice, he had disappeared.
Was he there in the first place I thought as I slugged the groceries to the car?
But I realized that the road I was on wasn’t one that made me happy at all.
And that realization was the beginning of it all.
Categories: My Writing... Tags: Choices, Homeless, My Writing..., The Man
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