I never bathe, I wear only the cheapest of second-hand clothes and I use the internet in public libraries. I clean my teeth with toothpicks I take out of garbage cans and I sleep on a park bench with a newspaper as a sheet. When I need to go to the toilet I just do it where I am, and change my pants later. I have two pairs, you see. I sit on street corners and blink dolefully at passers-by, hoping they'll give me money, or food at the very least. And they often do. I got three apple-cores this morning.
I comb my hair with my fingernails and I'm constantly trying to null the efforts to get rid of me of both government officials and librarians. My shirt has seven holes too many and my trousers are just one big hole. I have so many fleas that dogs won't come within a hundred miles of me. So many flies are breeding on me that the spiders can't eat them fast enough. My shoes are three sizes too small, but that doesn't matter because they haven't any soles. This also helps keep down the stink of my feet, although there are still a number of deaths each week. Snot streams constantly from my great warty nose and my oily, black hair hangs forward over my bloodshot and cheap drug-stained eyes. I have but two teeth which are black and as cracked as I am, and people passing my park bench - the area around which is littered with sixteen years' worth of rotting junk - often run screaming back to their homes, or to the police station. Whiny shits - why must they always throw things at me, or contact the authorities? Or the cryptozoologists? They need to start behaving in a proper manner, and conforming to most other people's standards. Whiny shits.
|
