Mr. Dead man

Prattelings of someone fairly insugnific
2001-02-19 07:53:20 (UTC)

It had been three days since my..

It had been three days since my father threw me out of
his home. I had been sleeping in the park, and going to
school during the day. But the days were getting colder,
and I was begining to wonder how I was going to take care
of myself.
I had a tollerable way of passing time. I would hang
out in the park doing homework, and watching childern and
parents play, until I coulden't stomache it any longer,
then I would go to a house on the north end of town and
hide in the bushes to watch t.v. When it got dark out and I
was tired, I would go back to the park, and hide under a
tank that had been placed there as a memorial, and sleep.
In the morning, I would go to my school and down to
the gym, where I would shower, and make ready for the day
of class. It wasn't bad, really, I had one meel a day, and
a warm place to hide for some of it.
My guidance counciler had me in his office and began
to ask why I was wearing the same clothes, and seemed to be
less than interested in my studies. I fed him a line, I
knew he didn't believe, and he left his office. That was
when I saw the work releace forms on his desk.
I knew a guy at our national guard armory, who
mentioned that he could use an assistant so in a blind
stroke of genius, I snatched one from his desk before he
came back in. And soon I would be set.
After leaving that room, and school, for the day, I
snuck around my parents home so I could grab a piece of
mail. I needed something with my fathers hand writing on it
so I could forge his signature. And maybe a change of
clothes from my friend next door.
He smiled when he saw me and asked how I was doing.
We exchanged information over a bottle of malt duck and a
game of cards. It had begun to rain, when I told him where
I was sleeping, and he made no joke about me sleeping on
his couch for a while. It was a blessed reprieve from that
cold stone slab, and I felt like a new man.
A new man. Those are the hardest words for me to
speak, becouse they rob me of my childhood, evertime I
speak them. Even now when I come so close to being 36, I
still long for the blessed days of youth, and play. I knew
so very few of them. But as I said my life is closing now,
and wishing for the time of my life I never knew, is mute.