BUM: A Fictional Memoir of Life on the Street

6am: Got woken up by my favorite sewer rat, Rabey, who was gnawing lightly on my genitals in hopes of foraging the only cheese available for 12 city blocks.  As good a way to start the day as any when you’re living on the street.

After squeezing the little guy to within an inch of his life, it seemed like the perfect time to head out of the alley and start screaming gibberish at people on line at the Starbucks down the street.  Man, do those early rising yuppie assholes get bent.  They should thank me, because getting threatened by a hobo wakes your ass up a lot faster than any venti latte ever could, and I’ll go away for a measly buck, instead of the $3-$5 those fancy pants baristas are taking them for.

8am: Two hours of shouting would tire anyone out, much less a 110 pound street urchin who’s done nothing but smoke stray cigarette filters and suck down Riunite for the last six months.  And let me tell you, getting one those boxes of wine into a paper bag is a chore.  Most times I just poke a hole into the side of a regular grocery bag for the tap, then pour it into a cup housed in a smaller paper bag.  For the flea set, it’s actually quite a sophisticated look, and it’s rare a fellow tramp doesn’t give me a satisfied nod before attempting to stick me with a rusty shiv and steal my grocery cart.

You know, I have to say, drinking out of a paper bag has really become a lost art form on the street.  A lot of times I see guys using those plastic grocery ones, which is a sorry substitute, and between you and me, a little bush.  Some don’t even care enough to use a bag and can be seen sipping from liquor bottles buried in their shirt sleeves.  It’s an awkward look to be sure, though the amputees seem to have an easier go of it.  I, for one, take a little pride in trying to create an image that Norman Rockwell might admire, an overall look that encapsulates the spirit of the unbathed, which I truly believe helps with the public’s monetary assistance.  If they’re going to stop what they’re doing to whip some loose change in my direction, I at least want to show people I am making an attempt as I chase them down the street waving a large stick. Even when horrified, I think people can sense the difference and appreciate the effort.

Next: 10am!