“Hey, ya big nigger, watch where the fuck you’re going!” I snapped out of my daze just in time to be knocked aside by a group of teenage boys on skateboards. I just looked up at them and stared, unsure of how to handle the situation. I WAS a homeless man in the middle of a white suburban neighborhood. Unleashing any pent up anger on four teenagers was probably not a good idea. I apologized softly for being in the way and began to scrape myself off as they laughed and skated away. One of them, however, stayed behind and surprised me quite a bit as he reached out his hand to me. I took his hand and stood up. He was pretty tall himself, I’d say somewhere in the 6’5” range. He had naturally blonde hair that hung down to his cheeks and he looked a little older than the rest of them.
“Sorry about that, man, they can be real assholes sometimes.” Compassion from a Gen-Xer, how refreshing.
“That kind of behavior wouldn’t go over too well downtown,” I replied in a gruff tone, still a little standoffish and a little embarrassed that I hadn’t seen them coming.
“What are you doing around here? You look like Tim the Toolman with that crap. Ya got Pam Anderson stuck in that big ass trench-coat?” He laughed and pulled out a pack of GPC cigarettes.
“What’s the matter, can’t afford Marlboro’s?” I was still kind of peeved and always enjoyed making fun of smokers anyway.
“What the hell? What’s this, an extra from a Spike Lee movie giving me shit about smoking?” he replied as a smile began to spread across his face, “What do you do for a living, build shelves for cardboard boxes?” I could tell he was enjoying this, as was I.
“You better shut up, boy, before I take your skateboard and bust it upside your white bread, peanut butter and jelly eatin’, suburb-livin’ face!” I smiled broadly, my amusement quite evident as the young man extended his hand towards me.
---------------
“My name’s Darc. Pronounced DAR-C. Short for Darcy.” I began to grin. “Yeah, I know its a chick’s name. Fuck off, I’ve heard it all before.” I shook his hand and was in return.
“I’m Kevin. I was just on my way across town and was hoping to make a few bucks.”
“I think you sure as hell managed that,” Darc said as he eyed the hundred dollar bill stuck into my newly acquired tool belt.
“Some days you get lucky and some days you don’t.” Too true.
“I’m gonna jam, Kev, I gotta catch up with mah buds. Nice talking with you, though. Maybe I’ll see ya around sometime.” And just as quick as he had shown up, Darc was on his skateboard and flying down the street. I shook my head, surprised at how at ease he had been while talking to me. Of course, some of it might’ve been because he was just as big as I was, but I have a feeling he had talked to homeless people before. Its not every day that I talk to a teenage skateboarder in a predominantly white section of town, though. He was a good kid. I could tell. He seemed older than the other kids. I wasn’t sure what it was, but he struck me as a person that would probably have helped ANYONE up, not just a homeless man. I made a mental note of his name and began walking down the street toward the bus stop.
It’s a good thing I had managed to get some quarters out of a generous young woman earlier in the day. I don’t think the bus driver could break a Ben. The bus pulled up and I slid the quarters into the machine, hearing the clink-clink-clink as they hit the bottom of the bin. It reminded me of a jackpot I had once hit in Reno. Sure could use one of those now.
I started walking down the aisle, avoiding eye contact with as many people as I could. I laughed inwardly as I imagined what people must’ve been thinking: “That’s the biggest, blackest, smelliest (I hadn’t taken a shower in about a week), handyman I’ve ever seen. I sure as hell hope he doesn’t sit by me!” I wasn’t in the mood to put anybody in an uncomfortable position, so I sat at the rear of the bus. I got as comfortable as is possible while wearing a fully-loaded tool belt and settled in for a quick nap. A bus seat was a lot better than some of the places I’d slept in the past WEEK.
---------------
“Off the bus, buddy!”, a voice boomed at me. I shook my head and looked up groggily as I saw the bus driver waddling back down to the front of the bus. Damn, what time is it? Where am I? Oh, the bus depot. Once again I had fallen asleep and missed my stop. Oh well, just means I may not be forced to sleep on the ground tonight.
“I said, get the hell off the bus!”, the bus driver screamed again as I got to my feet.
“I’m going, I’m going...” Those were words I used quite a lot. Not too many people want you to hang around when you’re just really taking up space before you move on to the next place where you just take up space. I stepped off the bus and meandered down the sidewalk, hoping there was a coffee shop open so I could grab some grub. I hadn’t had a real meal in weeks and that was definitely one thing I wanted to buy with the old man’s (God’s!!!) generous donation. I thought of a place a few blocks away that had a wonderful French Dip, so I set off with a quick stride so I could put an end to the hunger pangs I had been feeling for the past day.
“Nice tools, Mister.” It was midnight, what the hell? I turned around and spied a threesome of young men.
Not now, please, not now. I’m just hungry. Just leave me alone. Don’t do it. God gave me this money and these tools. I’m sure as hell not going to give them to you.
“Something I can help you guys with?” I realized all too quickly that it was no use trying to talk my way out of this one as the designated leader of the three brandished a rather large kitchen knife from out of his jacket.
“Hand over the tools, motherfucker. I’ll cut your black ass up!” He didn’t even give me time to respond as he lunged at me.
Kill him. He’s wronged you. Just kill him.
Goddammit, I don’t want to! I’d rather die MYSELF!
You’ll have to kill him, and you know it!
NO! Please! No! Please, God help me, please God...arrrggghhh!
“Sorry about that, man, they can be real assholes sometimes.” Compassion from a Gen-Xer, how refreshing.
“That kind of behavior wouldn’t go over too well downtown,” I replied in a gruff tone, still a little standoffish and a little embarrassed that I hadn’t seen them coming.
“What are you doing around here? You look like Tim the Toolman with that crap. Ya got Pam Anderson stuck in that big ass trench-coat?” He laughed and pulled out a pack of GPC cigarettes.
“What’s the matter, can’t afford Marlboro’s?” I was still kind of peeved and always enjoyed making fun of smokers anyway.
“What the hell? What’s this, an extra from a Spike Lee movie giving me shit about smoking?” he replied as a smile began to spread across his face, “What do you do for a living, build shelves for cardboard boxes?” I could tell he was enjoying this, as was I.
“You better shut up, boy, before I take your skateboard and bust it upside your white bread, peanut butter and jelly eatin’, suburb-livin’ face!” I smiled broadly, my amusement quite evident as the young man extended his hand towards me.
---------------
“My name’s Darc. Pronounced DAR-C. Short for Darcy.” I began to grin. “Yeah, I know its a chick’s name. Fuck off, I’ve heard it all before.” I shook his hand and was in return.
“I’m Kevin. I was just on my way across town and was hoping to make a few bucks.”
“I think you sure as hell managed that,” Darc said as he eyed the hundred dollar bill stuck into my newly acquired tool belt.
“Some days you get lucky and some days you don’t.” Too true.
“I’m gonna jam, Kev, I gotta catch up with mah buds. Nice talking with you, though. Maybe I’ll see ya around sometime.” And just as quick as he had shown up, Darc was on his skateboard and flying down the street. I shook my head, surprised at how at ease he had been while talking to me. Of course, some of it might’ve been because he was just as big as I was, but I have a feeling he had talked to homeless people before. Its not every day that I talk to a teenage skateboarder in a predominantly white section of town, though. He was a good kid. I could tell. He seemed older than the other kids. I wasn’t sure what it was, but he struck me as a person that would probably have helped ANYONE up, not just a homeless man. I made a mental note of his name and began walking down the street toward the bus stop.
It’s a good thing I had managed to get some quarters out of a generous young woman earlier in the day. I don’t think the bus driver could break a Ben. The bus pulled up and I slid the quarters into the machine, hearing the clink-clink-clink as they hit the bottom of the bin. It reminded me of a jackpot I had once hit in Reno. Sure could use one of those now.
I started walking down the aisle, avoiding eye contact with as many people as I could. I laughed inwardly as I imagined what people must’ve been thinking: “That’s the biggest, blackest, smelliest (I hadn’t taken a shower in about a week), handyman I’ve ever seen. I sure as hell hope he doesn’t sit by me!” I wasn’t in the mood to put anybody in an uncomfortable position, so I sat at the rear of the bus. I got as comfortable as is possible while wearing a fully-loaded tool belt and settled in for a quick nap. A bus seat was a lot better than some of the places I’d slept in the past WEEK.
---------------
“Off the bus, buddy!”, a voice boomed at me. I shook my head and looked up groggily as I saw the bus driver waddling back down to the front of the bus. Damn, what time is it? Where am I? Oh, the bus depot. Once again I had fallen asleep and missed my stop. Oh well, just means I may not be forced to sleep on the ground tonight.
“I said, get the hell off the bus!”, the bus driver screamed again as I got to my feet.
“I’m going, I’m going...” Those were words I used quite a lot. Not too many people want you to hang around when you’re just really taking up space before you move on to the next place where you just take up space. I stepped off the bus and meandered down the sidewalk, hoping there was a coffee shop open so I could grab some grub. I hadn’t had a real meal in weeks and that was definitely one thing I wanted to buy with the old man’s (God’s!!!) generous donation. I thought of a place a few blocks away that had a wonderful French Dip, so I set off with a quick stride so I could put an end to the hunger pangs I had been feeling for the past day.
“Nice tools, Mister.” It was midnight, what the hell? I turned around and spied a threesome of young men.
Not now, please, not now. I’m just hungry. Just leave me alone. Don’t do it. God gave me this money and these tools. I’m sure as hell not going to give them to you.
“Something I can help you guys with?” I realized all too quickly that it was no use trying to talk my way out of this one as the designated leader of the three brandished a rather large kitchen knife from out of his jacket.
“Hand over the tools, motherfucker. I’ll cut your black ass up!” He didn’t even give me time to respond as he lunged at me.
Kill him. He’s wronged you. Just kill him.
Goddammit, I don’t want to! I’d rather die MYSELF!
You’ll have to kill him, and you know it!
NO! Please! No! Please, God help me, please God...arrrggghhh!