Homeless Bum

 

(I'm trying to get the stains out of Rice-Boy's jacket.)

Yesterday, I got home at 6 p.m. and enjoyed a smoke. Then I knocked on Rice-Boy Larry’s bedroom door.

He said, “What do you want?”

“You have to come with me to the store.”

“But I’m studying for a science test.”

“It won’t take long. I’ve got to get eggs and liquid detergent.”

He nodded in agreement. “OK. I have to purchase a new notebook anyhow.”

“Don’t you own a ton of notebooks?”

“Yes, but they’ve all been used in one way or another. Maybe it’s time for a fresh start.”

So we walked to a small supermarket that’s about ten minutes from my house. The weather outside hasn’t been too bad recently. It’s only been chilly as opposed to numb-your-bones cold.

Anyway, we got to the place and started making our way up and down the aisles. We found a great deal on eggs. I bought 30 for seven dollars. They aren’t the good ones laid by the happy free-range birds advertised on TV. Rather, the poor chickens who squeezed these eggs out of their pussies reside in cramped cages and are both stressed and suicidal. But what’s a boy to do? I love animals with all my heart, yet I still have to feed my family.

Next came the liquid detergent. There were lots of brands to choose from. And I finally settled on a large plastic container that was on sale for ten dollars.

Larry said, “Why waste your money? You have plenty of soap powder at our humble abode.”

“Yes, but that powder left white stains on your black jacket. Now I’m trying to remove the flakes so that you don’t look like a homeless bum.”

We eventually got back to the apartment at quarter to seven, and I made my boy dinner. I served him hash browns with five fried eggs. I prepare the same meal practically every day. I also gave him an apple which I had bought off a fruit truck a few days ago.

Then I took his jacket and shoved it into the washing machine. It spun around and around with plenty of liquid soap for a good ninety minutes. And you guessed it. When I finally took it out and hung the fucking thing up to dry, the stains were still present. My washer simply isn’t big enough to handle a coat of that size.

I waited until 10 p.m. to call my mother using Facebook Messenger. It was 7 a.m. in her neck of the woods, and she was sitting on her patio drinking her morning coffee.

I said, “I’m going nuts over here.”

“Why?”

“I can’t get the powder stains off of Larry’s jacket.”

“What you need to do is let it soak in the bathtub overnight and gently rub the affected areas with a brush from time to time.”

“Will that do the trick?”

“Well, if it doesn’t, then you’re fucked.”

“I’ll try that tomorrow.”

I relaxed in bed and watched Fox News. The president of Harvard is a black militant female, and she was getting grilled by a republican member of congress who accused her of being anti-Semitic. I tried to view the entire story, but I fell asleep halfway through the proceedings.

I woke up at 5 a.m. and fixed myself a cup of instant coffee. Then I read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a nasty shit. According to a professor in Seoul, there are over 70,000 homeless teenagers wandering aimlessly around the cities of South Korea. Yet I’ve been living here for years and years, and I’ve never seen a single solitary street waif during my entire stay. Go figure.

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