Food

Hey there.

Maybe you’re wondering where a homeless guy like me gets his food, huh? Well most of the ‘homies’ go to this carecenter somewhere near central park, I believe it’s at 81^st street or something. I myself have found some better ways to get food then to stand in line with old farting women and itchy little heroin users.

At Times Square (which is supposed to be the centre of the fuckin’ universe and all) there’s this funny old chinaman who runs a small take off restaurant. He has this buffet where tourists can pick up all kinds of food and eat it there or take it to some other place. Well, when the restaurant is closed he opens up the backdoor and there’ll be a line of guys like me. Then he picks out two (sometimes three) people and they can get a plate of food for nothin’. All you have to do is help the chinaman clean the restaurant. He has this very ugly daughter who tells you what to do. You either clean the tables or vacuum or take a mop through the shithouse. The food is worth it so the line at the backdoor is at times all the way ‘round the corner. But when he picks me out I make sure that I work so hard to make the place so gruesomely clean that when I’m done the place looks like those mirrorplaces you can find at the fairs and amusementparks. He notices this so he picks me out ev’ry damn time. When it’s not my day his ugly daughter picks out the guys and she always goes for the cute ones and that apparently does not include me. What’s on her mind? That homeless guys go the restaurant looking for a Chinese woman to marry? Man, all they want to do is eat and let me tell ya, the sight of that chick alone is enough to make you appetite disappear like snow in the sun. I guess ya kinda know by now I don’t really like her, huh?

By the way, I kinda have this girlfriend thing goin’ on at the moment. Her name is Agnes and she’s from Poland or something like that. She used to be some kind of mail order bride for this fat guy in uptown Manhattan ‘till he got fed up with her spendin’ all his money on clothing and 5^th Avenue chocolate and he chucked her on the sidewalk of his fancy apartment. Now she’s roamin’ the streets like me and I kinda hooked up with her at the busstation. She can be real sweet at times. She made friends with some old broad from Russia who has this big old house in Jersey and she can crash there some nights of the week. Then I sneak through the window like some kind of pimply, horny sixteen year old kid ‘fraid to get caught and we kinda mess around for a while. The old woman doesn’t hear a thing anymore but she has this mangy ol’ cat walkin’ about the place like he’s Napoleon Bonaparte or somethin’. Ev’ry time Agnes and I are fumbling at eachother this fat furball comes crawling in and starts rubbin’ his head against my bare ass. Jeez, I hate that, but when I start pushing the beast away it starts howling like some kind of scudrocket and I swear, the old woman may be deaf to ev’rything around her, but when that cat starts screeching and singing she comes running in with guns blazin’.

I’ve had a few close calls when Agnes and I were nearly busted by the old goat so I kinda put up with the cat. Can you picture it? Me and Agnes hittin’ the spot with that cat rubbing my ass at the same time? Bet ya don’t wanna imagine that again!

Okay, talk to ya later, Hector wants me out. John.