And then, if you're not making a scene, not acting psychotic, not actively trying to kill yourself or someone (and the intense zombie-inducing drugs pretty much make that a for sure), then they kick you back to the streets. My third day was spent with several different harried social workers, who played the paper game, setting me up with aftercare, which would never materialize. There was other stuff, but it was even less interesting. No more meals, or friendly smiles. Here's a plastic bag with enough pills to last the rest of the week (which most people sell as soon as they can.) No money, and sorry, we just ran out of bus tokens. Good luck!
One of the psych techs stood by the entrance gate, stern with his arms folded, and watched me walk off. I had no doubt he would grimly beat the shit out of me if I tried to come back. I could feel his stare, drilling between my shoulder blades.
Time to go back to my room on Skid Row. It was either that or walk the earth like fucking Johnny Bobo, and I didn't feel like killing myself so...
...I was suddenly exhausted. I had to go somewhere and take a nap. I tried to get my bearings. I was north of Skid Row in some Office Park Hell,just the sort of place the drug companies I used to work for had their regional offices. Little complexes tucked behind lots of landscaping. Lots of bushes, shrubs, hedges, all of them a swell place to sleep if you've just recently been exited from a psychiatric hospital, and your only two possessions are jack and shit.
Most bushes, or shrubs are hollow inside. Check one out, you'll see what I mean, and you'll probably find someone, or their stuff. The first oneI investigated was stuffed with rotting take-out paper sacks, ketchup packets, moldy towels. I made sure none of this was fresh, as in it I didn't want to wake up in someone else's camp with my throat cut. Given the way the flies and the ants were going after the rot I felt I was pretty safe, as safe as you can ever be, and it wasn't like I slept great anyway.
I pushed the garbage away and spread my discharge paperwork out to forma basic pallet.
YOU ARE READING
THE DOG HUNTERS (completed)
General FictionA suicidal homeless weirdo has adventures. He runs into a duo of dog lovers, who spend their days traveling around the city observing and honoring dogs. Wisdom cannot be run away from. He escapes paradise and falls in love with a strange lady who m...
