I needed to eat so I found my way onto the commercial hell that all Ace City districts have. The asshole of every community. Fast food and chain stores and other establishments that are even less interesting.Dumpster that sometimes aren't locked.
I had to try to clean myself. I tried scraping the puke off with a stick, but it had hardened like paper mache. I basically gave up,wasn't happy about that, but the longer I dealt with it the less it smelled, or I just got used to it, and I told myself it'd help me keep the crazy people away.
I needed to shit, then piss. Then I needed water. I needed to steal a pair of shoes, find a coat, some kind of blanket. I kept telling myself that when I got ahead of the immediate tasks I was headed back to Skid Row to get my paperwork put together. This wasn't a plan. I'd never had a plan in my life. I just did whatever I thought wouldn't turn me into Johnny Bobo.
And then one of my knees gave out. Felt like wasps were stinging under the knee cap. Limping lets the predators know you're prey. A floating task became being extra vigilant in terms of paying attention. Even so I knew it was only a matter of time before I got fucked with and fucked up from any of the lions and wolves, lounging outside the 7 Elevens, inside donut shops, hovering around bus stop benches.
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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...
