|| Inevitable ||

The Beginning

"Boo!" I pout and throw popcorn at the characters. "Just say you love him, you dumbass!" My loud hollering, quickly catches the attention of a nearby cat. It hisses at me briefly, arching its motley grey back, before dashing off into the darkness.

Returning to sneering at the TV, I spit, "This Dear John movie is nine kinds of stupid. The book was a hundred times better." A rattling noise coming from the kitchen draws my attention for a second, and then my tirade continues. "Stop turning books into movie whores, you lifeless television industry." I was seconds away from yelling at a TV now, because normal people always do that. Having read it as a child, and unfortunately having seen the movie, I hold the story close to my heart. Why else would I defend it so valiantly?

I nearly choke to death on my weakness for gluttony, as I stuff more delicious popcorn in my mouth, barely savouring the buttery and salty taste of the fluffy treat as it tumbles down my throat. This is borderline orgasmic stuff right here.

My moment with the popcorn is immeasurably ruined by a yelling voice. "Hey you!"

"Who, me?" I point to myself as an angry man appears in front of me. Red-faced and all.

"Stop peeking through my windows and watching my TV!" He jabs a greasy, accusing finger at me, a crumb of a Doritos chip still desperately clinging to it.

Raising my hands in the air, I offer him a polite smile. "All good, I'm leaving." Once his nostrils stop flaring, I slowly get up from my crouched position behind the rotting flower bed, narrowly missing the drooping tulips.

I take measured steps backwards, and then spin on my heel and begin my leisurely stroll down the street, whistling up to the night sky. A smug smile worms itself onto my face when I hear him call back from the open window. "Come here again and I'll call the cops! Street scum!"

Hope you don't kiss your mother with that mouth.

I bet you thought I was just another teenager, right? You thought I was sitting nice and cozy in my two storey home, with my parents of a middle class income, and my seemingly loveable siblings. Tucked away with my own television, watching a cheesy romance and chowing down on my mum's special homemade popcorn.

How about no?

I'm homeless. Have been since I was eighteen, now going on twenty-one. I live on the cold, hard streets and I eat kids for brunch. Just kidding, I eat sewer rats. Every Friday night, I drop by that house to catch a movie flick with the overweight janitor who lives in that small unit. Watching his gut move up and down for a good two hours while his stomach struggles to digest a small ball of diabetes, well that's a small price to pay for a free film. Well, not anymore.

And the popcorn you say? A little forewarning, I hope you aren't eating anything right now... 

I got that out of a trashcan. It was piled nicely on top and you could still see the steam floating off it. 

Talk about a jackpot, I think dryly. Of course, that heat could have had something to do with the steaming bag of dog shit that was underneath it. But hey, a girl's gotta eat.

The wind whips at my hair, and curls around my shoulders, making me pull my black parka just a little bit closer. This time of night the streets are usually still full of life, but asides from a few dispersed cars, there is little to no activity. It means I can move slowly throughout the maze of alleys and backways, and no one will bother me, but then again no one pays attention to this 21-year-old hobo. Every so often, I get a few pitiful glances, however it's usually looks of revulsion and disgust that come my way. People just aren't as understanding and charitable as they used to be.