Oh of course I forget the buy the fucking Advil.I've got to figure out how to get a bottle on my way home, but I don't. I get ready at Madison Avenue Starbucks, and say goodbye to my brother. We both stand in front of the building, gauging the cold. He, to see if he can stay out in it all night; I, sympathetic to his plight. We part company and I head straight for the Way. I'm tired of the night and I'm ready to get it over with. I get to the Box, and of course it's a strange night. The minute that I enter the vestibule, there is a drunk elderly man seated in the middle of the floor with a cane. I come in behind another client, and we step over him to get to the inner door. As soon as the inner door unlocks and we step through it, he grabs the door, holding it open and struggles to his feet. One of the Techs downstairs surges into the doorway, knocking his hand away and closing the door in front of him. "What did I tell you?" He asks. "I told you," the old man begins. "That I want to come in." The Tech walks off, leaving him to sit back down on the floor of the vestibule.
I scale the stairs and skip the Nurse's station. I just don't have the patience tonight to stand on a line with twenty eight pounds on my back, waiting for some dumb ass to dispense three pills. Bitch acts like she's being paid by the hour. SHIT! That's right. The fucker is being paid by the hour.
I head to my bed and get behind my baby. I have no patience for anything tonight. Even Robert walks up to me, in the mood for small talk, asking me how my day was. I'm not in the mood for small talk, but since he was so earnest, I soften towards him and get all cordial. But when he was done and had walked off, the door to my tender mercies slammed shut.
I don't stay up long. Possibly the fish oil in my system is making me more tired than normal. I've been getting enough rest. Possibly too much? One never knows about these things. Tomorrow morning I intend on taking a shower. I could use one. So, I retire early, knowing that in time, my body will wake up at five and I can hop in. Or so I believe. Sleep does not come easy even as tired as I am. I called it a night because one of the Techs, Latifa, comes up to me and asks who my social worker is. My ILS. Which means they're going to tell him to talk to me about something. Most likely my staying up past curfew to work on my laptop. Well, here we go, more rules and stupid regulations. And trust me, they'll get progressively worse as the Winter creeps on in.
I twist and turn in bed, not finding rest. I do not feel in the least tired enough to drift off, but too tired to do anything. A limbo of sleep so to speak. But I do drift off sometime during the night, and then wake up at Five. I roll over to see Smitty get up and go to the bathroom. I think about collecting my shower gear, but Smitty comes back and hops into bed. I wonder to myself just how safe it would be for me to get up and take a long shower, leaving my baby behind while Smitty was still awake. I do not trust the guy. Not just yet.
I decided to wait a few minutes until he falls back to sleep before I get up and hop into the shower. I don't feel sleepy so I suppose that staying awake will be too easy. How wrong was I, because I am waking up all over again, this time at a quarter after Six. I had fell asleep for over an hour. Smitty is up again, walking by with his shower gear. I find the need to envy him already.
I sit on the edge of my bed, thinking if I could just get up and shower now. But that would be a mistake with Paul the Stooge right across from me. Seconds before awakening. He is a known thief. Whatever his bookies or drug dealers will take, he'll steal. That's not a good prospect to leave a bag brimming with equipment around.
Smitty returns and we start to talk again. He gives me this pre-dawn story about seeing me standing over my bed, but not recognizing me at first, and wondering 'who was this guy' over my bed area. He speaks as if he was looking out for my well being, or the well being of my possessions. Because he didn't recognize me he thought that I was someone else. And instantly he was in 'defend' mode.
Now I know the Skek Translation for this: I'm a fucking thief, and I want you to believe that I honestly have your best interests at heart since I'm NOW your friend. Although in all actuality, I don't know you from Adam. When we begin speaking he tells me about his last New Year's Eve. He was at his favorite bar...Smith's Bar and Restaurant.... Which is my favorite bar mind you. So much so that I'm friends with the owners and they love me there. Mainly because I've spent a small fortune living there at one time before becoming homeless. But this is MY bar. Well, Smitty continues. He had such a helluvah time last New Years. He stole over a hundred dollars in tips from the bar and a digital camera from two drunk people who handed him the camera for him to take their photograph, and then they forgot who they gave it to.
Now, I ask you, as I stare into the television audience, what kind of dumb fuck is this Skek? Are you just that stupid to admit that you are a fucking thief to someone that you just met? Or at all? How daft is that? Now do you see why I'm proud of myself by not leaving my baby around him? Once a thief, and bragging about it mind you, always a liar, thief, murderer. There is nothing morally redeeming about you. And I know thiefspeak. I know how they think. And I know how to thwart them.
Smitty, I can tell, is an exceptional thief. He is the pincher that everyone strives to be, because he fools individuals into believing their falsehoods. I doubt if even a bit of truth comes out of his piehole. He hoodwinks his friends and enemies alike. I fear him as well as respect him. Smitty will keep me on my toes, or he'll 'get me', one or the other. There is no middle ground here. None.This is another contest that I cannot afford to lose. Not at all.
I'll have to find some other way to take showers in the Box.
I will have to use my gray matter better than they.
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