Shoot me! Will somebody just kill me? Where’s street violence when you really need it?
Giving me a razor and telling me to shave was supposed to improve my self-esteem, I’ll bet. But they still kicked me out. Of the Rescue Mission! Who gets kicked out of the Rescue Mission? They shoulda thanked me instead. Stupid holy rollers really believed those bums got “saved.” I told them they were a bunch of liars. Just saying the words doesn’t get you saved. You have to believe in your heart. Even I know that much. They’re a bunch of stinkin’ liars, getting “saved” every week just so they can get a hot and a cot. They shoulda thanked me, I tell you! Instead they threw me out for being “disruptive.”
Sure, they gave me a sleeping bag and this goofy cap. Funny some old lady do-gooder didn’t knit “Loser” into the pattern of this cap. This sleeping bag doesn’t smell real fresh, either.
Liars. I know all about liars. “Love you, man,” they said as long as I could buy them their booze and smokes. Those girls, too. “Love you, sweetie,” they said, when I gave them jewelry and cars. What did they ever give me? Oh, yeah, that nasty little disease.
Dad warned me. Told me to be careful. But I figured, what did he know? Just working the farm since he was my age. Why should I wait until he died to have my inheritance? By that time I’d be as old as he is now and what would I need it for then? Dad sure doesn’t have much of a life, especially now with Mom gone.
Of course he has Daniel. The “perfect” son who stayed home. What a plugger. He’s probably married to some dumb female now and has a litter of kids. Little rug rats that crawl up on your lap and get you all sticky with candy and stuff. Funny how little kids can get so dirty and still smell like sunshine…
Daniel never could play chess, though—just didn’t have the hang of it like I do. Wonder who Dad plays with since I left?
I wonder if that rack in the haymow is still there? It sure would be better than sitting here on this cold cement. Maybe if I mucked out after the milking Dad would let me bunk out there. There’s always a cat or two to keep the mice down. I remember how Lester, the old tabby cat would sleep on my chest, his big warm body rumbling as he purred…
Oh-oh. Here come the cops. Making a street sweep in the middle of the day. Must be a slow day in the crime biz. Well, at least I’ll have a dry jail cell to sleep in tonight. Wait. I recognize that voice…
“That’s all right, Officer. I’ve got it. I’ll take care of him.”
“Come on, son. Time to go home.”