I didn't really sleep, but I was peaceful, so it didn't matter, except I was also starving. When it was past dawn, I got myself up and dusted myself off.
"Where?"I asked myself. Where indeed. Not somewhere that took me to the police, or jail, or the loony bin, or a SRO on Skid Row, or the bedroom of a mad woman, or any other kind of coffin. Not somewhere that was just wandering (take that Johnny Bobo!). Somewhere different.
I had no idea, but wherever that wherever was, I'd need means, or something.
"Gosh," I said. "Looks like I gotta figure out another way to make money."
It had been a while, and I had no ID, skills, or interests.
Not matter, the mission would be looking for money, and maybe thebullshit might lead to something else.
Down the hill, the construction site had a bunch of recyclables in their dumpster, along with a ripped plastic tarp, which I used as a utility trash bag, folding up the corners as best I could. Ambling further down the hill I hit the Ralphs and only waited an hour or so for the recycling shack to open up.
From there I kept moving and repeated this trick, trying to keep things simple. I sorted through trash and collected whatever I could sell or recycle, though I never found anything I could sell.
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...
