Getting Lucky

CHAPTER 11: THE LUCKY BEGGAR

A couple of days pass by, during which time Lucky and I take advantage of our new found talent for extracting money from strangers in a semi-legitimate fashion. We both have full bellies, not from stealing or from the soup kitchen but from actual purchased food. I’m sporting some new clothes that help me to be noticeable when I want to be and invisible when I don’t. Best of all I can drink again, but I’m not as excited by that as I thought I would be. I’m just not taking to the booze with the same enthusiasm as before. There’s something magical about seeing nice people being instantly rewarded for their kindness and for the first time in as long as I can remember I am proud of what I am doing, even if I am just the facilitator. I don’t need to lose myself in a bottle any more, I sleep peacefully with Lucky curled up by my side. Even Jimmy has decided to stay away from us, although I’m confident that particular piece of luck won’t last forever.

I’m getting ready to wrap up another days work when a familiar face appears in front of me. I can’t quite place it until he loudly proclaims, “You’re the one who saved my life!” I recognise the old man from a few days ago as he shakes my hand enthusiastically and proclaims, “I should have been a goner. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

It feels wrong taking the credit for karma’s hard work, “No need, I’m just happy I could help.”

He’s pumping my hand extremely hard for a guy that recently had a heart attack, “I’ve been asking around all day to try and find you. You know there’s a rumour going around of a lucky beggar that grants you good fortune if you donate money. If it’s true I would certainly say you fit the bill!”

I laugh a bit too enthusiastically, “A lucky beggar! What a concept. Can you imagine?” I stop and think about it for a second and something occurs to me. Sooner or later someone’s going to put the pieces together, it’s already started. Denying it won’t make the problem go away. I have to try and use this to my advantage, to allow me to hide in plain sight. I pull him closer and whisper, “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m the lucky beggar. That’s why there was an ambulance waiting a few feet away when you had a heart attack, because you gave me a fiver.”

His eyes light up and he reaches for his wallet. I wave my hand, “I’m sorry it only works once, and besides what more can I do for you than save your life? Just keep it to yourself ok, I don’t want every man and his dog trying to find me.” He nods enthusiastically and speeds off. As predicted, within the hour I’ve seen a suspiciously large increase in donations and I’m not seeing too many people being rewarded. One guy even says to me, “Hey, you’re the lucky beggar right?” 

I smile at him, “Me? Nope. Next beggar over is the lucky one.” 

He says, “You look a lot like the description, you even have the scruffy dog…” 

I think fast, “Oh yeah, well I’ve heard people are spreading false descriptions so they can keep the lucky beggar to themselves.”

“Those bastards!” 

“I know right. The real Lucky Beggar is a young girl. Sometimes she wears a hat. Also I’ve heard the more you give, the better the reward, but the longer it takes to come to you.”

The guy is nodding along, “Thanks mate, they nearly had me going there.” He chucks me a quid anyway and goes off in search of his mystical beggar. A few more people ask me similar questions as the day progresses and I give them all wildly different descriptions, to ensure there’s enough variation in the story to keep everyone guessing. It’s my gift to my homeless brethren. The speed at which gossip travels around here pretty soon everyone will be looking for the magical beggar, but no-one will know what to look for. Bumband does its part too and within a couple of hours the area is swarming with beggars, some with dogs, some with signs saying I’m the Lucky Beggar and others with signs proclaiming they aren’t. The punters are throwing cash at all of them, hoping to find the right one and claim their reward. Despite this smokescreen I’m going to need to find a new place to beg, my gift won’t work if people are looking for me.

Still I’m feeling pretty pleased with myself and my good deed for the local homeless community. I decide to call it a day and head back home with Lucky in tow. When we get to the convenience story I say, “Go on ahead boy, I’ll be right there. I just need to buy us some dinner.”

He merrily trots off towards home and I thank his previous owner one more time for the excellent training they gave him. I’m just about to step inside when someone jumps me from behind and drags me down the closest side street. They slam me bodily against the wall with a loud thump. It’s covered in fly posters and my face is pressed against a cold damp poster depicting some up and coming boy band. 

I’d like to point out to my assailant that technically it’s not possible to hurt me without seriously hurting themselves, but it’s hard to do with a mouthful of poster. After a couple of sharp punches to the kidneys I get spun around and am hardly surprised to see that it’s Jimmy. I’m busy wondering how he is suddenly able to hurt me when he punches me viciously in the jaw. My whole head rattles and I fall to the ground stunned. He stands over me and says, “Thought I was going to forget about you? I’m going to seriously fuck you up, but first you owe me several days rent.” He pats me down and steals my days earnings. When he sees the wad he says, “I’d heard you were doing well begging but I didn’t think you were doing this well. I guess it will be a shame to cripple you, but look on the bright side it might help business.” He kicks me hard in the ribs. I don’t understand why the organisms aren’t jumping to my aid, why isn’t karma kicking his arse?

He scoops me up off the ground and pats my other pockets, looking for more. He comes out with one of the golden vials. I’d totally forgotten about it. I instinctively shout, “No!” He smiles and slams me against the wall again. I have a second to focus on the poster, it seems familiar somehow. I don’t have long to contemplate, he spins me around and punches me in the solar plexus, winding my badly. I look up through the tears and see him rolling up his sleeve, “I didn’t take you for a junkie. This looks like some good shit though. Mind if I have a taste?” He pulls the cap off the needle and sticks it into his arm. He pushes the plunger and waits for a rush that never comes. After a few seconds he drags me back onto my feet and presses his face into mine, “What was that? It was crap.” 

I give him my biggest smile and finally understand why fate had allowed a little pain to come my way. It was for the greater good. I look him right in the eye and say, “That’s karma, and it’s a bitch.” I swing my leg with all my force and catch his testicles perfectly, like I’m drop kicking a rugby ball. He goes down fast and cracks his head on the curb. Seeing my chance I jump on him and land a few quick punches to the face before I remember I’m not supposed to be hurting anyone either. I guess I’m allowed some payback for the pain he’s caused me. I lean in close and say, “It’s going to take you a while to figure it out, but you’re going to need a new method of making a living. Trust me when I say you don’t want to try and hurt me or anyone else ever again.” I pull my bundle of cash from his pocket being careful not to take more than he took from me. 

I’m about to run when the poster I saw earlier catches my eye again. It says MISSING. I’m drawn to it and as I get closer I make out the photo. It’s a carefully groomed dog. I recognize the eyes, but that’s the only part that looks vaguely similar to Lucky. If it really is him this picture must have been taken a while ago. There’s a number to call and the next sentence says Large Cash Reward. I rip the poster down and stuff it in my pocket. I leave Jimmy coughing in the dirt and go find some dinner for Lucky and I.