We call her...Freakshow.

Growls and guttural screeches from the tyrannical lesbo cafeteria lady/man during breakfast shocked the hobos into focus. Flinging goo onto greasy trays and making harsh comments to all. Think that bear shaped bitch was drunk. Soft mumblings from the grime covered tables, men huddled over their trays spooning in the slop. Sipped my Victory coffee in depressed resentment. Cold. And cold in a way that is deep down inside. Feeling a sour mood.

Breakfast consisted of a thin pink stew with chunks of something in it that made it look a lot like vomit. There was a puddle of the mess on the table and I just twirled my spoon in it while listening to snatches of dialog drift across the room. I just had the banana. Jeff from Pensacola made light patter. He wants to cut town and go back to Florida, the Old Folks Graveyard. Decided to drag myself out into the morning mist and to work.

Work was great. Worked by myself and we sold out. Time flew by. Afterwards, jumped the blue line back to Vinnies and that sun beating down all hot and nasty. Pigeons dived and swooped around the station spreading their vermin. I hate nature. If you stand still long enough, something will shit on you. Was crossing the station platform when someone boomed out my name and the echo reverbs scared the crap out of six pigeons and a bag lady. Literally. The lady shit right onto the cement a thick stagnant caramel colored discharge. A small child began to cry.

It was Pensacola Jeff calling out to me with the sad news that he got the boot from work so's he's going back to Pensacola. Okay. Walking through the throng of paralyzed phantoms to the shelter a block from the trolley station, this old black hag was straining to push her cart down the broken sidewalk. Dressed in tattered clothes covered in shit and a blond wig, she sneezed and her dentures flew out of her mouth and onto the dusty ground next to the sidewalk. She grabbed them up and after washing them off with a cup of stale coffee, placed them back into her diseased festering hole.

I looked at Jeff and stated flatly, "I can die now. I have finally seen it all."

"Yeah." Jeff laughed, "We call her Freakshow."

I lit a Lucky Strike and moved on.

Grumblings from the natives. A heavy air of depression hangs over this place like a thick smelly funk. I have been here too long. The bum kicks piling up far past my tolerance level. I want to move out on the eighth of July into a nice apartment I found, but my patience is wearing really thin. Seems to be surrounded by complete idiots. No one here I want to associate with. I had a very low opinion of homeless folk before entering this place and I tell you, it has gotten worse.

Pardon this rant, but the burden is becoming too great.