Monday morning I awake with my back hurting and my palms itching. I roll over on the foul mattress as I scratch my palms, and look out of the grimy window. All I see is another crumbly looking brick building and rain falling. To feel the heat of the summertime in this building is torturous, especially when it rains. The stench of mold and immorality saturates the air around me. I blink my eyes hard; trying to erase the sights and sounds from the night before to no avail. How did I get here? I ask myself this question every day.
I sit up stretch and slowly look around. A few empty faces and a few sleeping bodies. Soulless people-I hate people-all people. I don’t care what that ghetto quack of a doctor said. I do not have a mental illness. Just because I see those…faces. I tie my shoes and get up and stretch.
Do I smell that bad yet? I would smell better if I was circumcised. Damn my mother. And my dad used to always say “Put some clothes on, wash those feet!” When was the last time I bathed? I can’t remember, nor do I really care. I stand up, grab my cap and get ready to face another dead meaningless day. Maybe I’ll go find me a summer job….a preposterous thought.
I head towards the stairs while I think in my lazy mind about which dumpsters I would hit today. I was pretty hungry, so I figured I’d try to sneak in back of one of those restaurants that serve up those breakfasts on hot plates that people stuff into their bloated faces. I needed to hurry though or the flies and their maggots would get there first. I remember all too vividly the time when I bit into that sausage. It tasted so great until I felt those things squirming around in my mouth. I hit my mouth with the back of my hand and swallowed back some bile at the thought of it. Damn memories that fill my head. I was always having flashbacks. All rotten… nothing decent…the story of my life.
As I walk out of the building I decide to head to the east. The sky looked blacker in that direction.
So I walk and I walk and walk some more down the street in a numb daze when something suddenly grabs my ankle. Startled, I look down. Ugh! It’s a filthy old man. I shake my ankle but he holds tight. “Pleeeeeeeeezzze!” He says. “Please what?” I say as I squat down to his level, his hand still gripping my ankle firmly. I notice his eyes are two different colors like David Bowie’s.
Although Bowie had those different looking eyes cuz when he was a kid he got punched in the eye by someone wearing a ring, I thought to myself. I wonder if this guy got punched in the eye too.
“Old man, please what??” I say with emphasis on how bothered I was. “Please, I need some help.” He desperately cried. And then he said. “I seen you, I seen your hands and they are good hands.”
What the hell is this guy absolutely nuts? “My hands are gross as shit and as boney as your butt cheek.” I say as I look down at them with my fingers spread wide.
The old man reaches up and grabs both of my hands hard and says “I’m in good hands; won’t you change my bag?” He reaches down and pulls up his stained t-shirt, and there it was the bag he spoke of. It was filled with thick bright green liquid and the bag was full, indeed. It looked really tight and just about ready to burst. What the hell was this guy? An alien? So I yelled. “Whaaaat? Your bag?? That’s about as funny as a bake sale; me changing your bag!”
“Please I am sad and helpless! Open this valve and change my bag!” He yelled. “That story is about as deep as your pocket change.” I retorted.
“It’s nice and warm, won’t you change my BAAAAAAG?!!!” He screamed. And I said. “That’s about as thick as the hair on your back, old man.” And with that I stood up to continue east towards the blackened sky as the old man continued to bellow towards me.
What a life that is mine. I filed this revolting encounter into my mind along with all of the countless others. Some day in the future, I will try to cover it with the black - the exquisite black…and those faces.
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