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Chapter 25 By Punkerslut
The camera moves up a little, towards the sky, and looks down. It shows Gunner look over to the side, and see a kid on the gravel of the feeding area, wrapped up in an emergency blanket (the shiny, tin foil kind). GUNNER, VOICE OVER: I wonder if the inventor of emergency blankets knew that they would be used by homeless nine year olds who have no place to go. I wonder if the inventor of plastic cups would know that they would be used by the homeless to spange. I wonder if he knew that some homeless guy would come up to me, and tell me that after eight hours, he made only forty three cents. Makes me want to know, how he would have to feel after that. I wonder if Jesus Christ knew what his people would do, if he knew that they would embrace this system, this government. This isn't freedom and it isn't prosperity. That one nine-year old kid is just the one out of five million using an emergency blanket tonight. Chances are, he's got things the best out of all of them, except those in prison. I wonder if Jesus knew that all this would happen. Why in the fuck didn't he say a goddamn thing? Someone walks by Gunner, not showing their face, or much of anything, as they're blurred, but they hand him a tall can of beer and keep walking. He never looks up to see who it is. He opens the can and takes a shwill. A group of three yuppies are walking by, they see Gunner, and one girl whispers something to a guy, and he starts laughing, saying, "You're so bad." The camera focuses on Gunner again, and he takes another shwill and looks forward toward the line. The camera starts moving upwards toward the sky. It shows the entire line, slowly, trudgingly, moving toward the feeders. GUNNER, VOICE OVER: Why did Jesus say, "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife"? That wouldn't bother me so much. I think it would have been more effective, had Jesus said, "Thou shalt not employ children in Indonesian factories for twelve hours a day making a dollar a week." He was a fucking retard when he wasted his breath with "Love Thy Enemy." He should have been telling the people to overthrow any system of government that oppresses its people. But, fucking hell with that guy. The one man that is a perfect example of a failure has been made into a god. But here we are, in the system of perfect oppression. The only people who care are the majority of us who are oppressed. Just because television doesn't show our faces, it doesn't mean that more than half the people in America aren't in poverty. I really want to know, though... did the inventor of the emergency blanket knew that it would be used by the young and homeless to help them sleep? Gunner walks over to the little kid, covered in an emergency blanket, and throws a box of cookies down in front of him. "Merry Christmas," he says, and walks away. "Thanks," the kid mumbles with his sleepy expression. SPIKE: That was mighty kind of you, Gunner. Hey Kid looks to Gunner, and smiles. GUNNER: What? HEY KID: You know, I respect you as a human being, knowledgeable and wise with experience, for what you do. GUNNER: Well, thanks... I do what I do because I care about these people. These are my people, my streets, my fucking city. It all belongs to me, but this isn't my fucking nation and it isn't my fucking government. SPIKE: Fuck the bourgeoisie, brother. Fuck them. SWEEP: (half asleep, and grinning) Fight war, not wars; destroy power, not people... Some random girl (ultra gutter punk girl) comes up. CASSEY: Hey Kid, come with me... HEY KID: Huh? Why, Cassey? I was gonna get some food. Haven't eaten all day. CASSEY: Nah, I have a spot further up in the line. I didn't see you here. GUNNER: Hey Kid... Are you going to introduce us to your girlfriend, or are we just part of the mystery squad? LILY: Mystery squad... You're funny when you're drunk. Lily smiles. Gunner smiles back. GUNNER: Then let's hope you never know me as a sober man. SPIKE: Oh, trust me, that's the last of my worries. GUNNER: I' unno, actually, about that... SPIKE: What? You're giving up the booze? Yeah, and I'm going back to high school and I'll get a job at McDonald's. GUNNER: Now that is just plain disrespectful. CASSEY: Um, this sounds like a really interesting conversation, guys, but unless you want to choke on your teeth, I suggest you shut up and let me take Hey Kid. GUNNER: Choking on my teeth? How would that -- wait... are you implying that my teeth would be lodged in my throat by some natural accident? Gunner squints his eyes at the girl and rubs his chin. CASSEY: You want to fight? GUNNER: Maybe I do. You threaten me or my family again and I'll tear your fucking head off. CASSEY: Then let's try it. Cassey pulls out a switchblade, opens it, and heads for Gunner, but Hey Kid grabs her, while Gunner just stands there, Spike just about to lunge forward and pull him back. HEY KID: Cassey, Gunner is one of my best friends. Don't fight him unless you want me to refuse to be your friend. She lets go, closes the knife, pockets it. HEY KID: Come on, let's just go.... Gunner, Spike, Lily, you're my family, and I hope none of this would offend you. Go easy, and I pray that you'll sleep beautifully tonight. Good night. GUNNER: (yelling and holding up one of his hands) I love you, Hey Kid! Hey Kid holds up his hand (his back is to Gunner and the group now) as a sign of mutual affection. GUNNER: You know, that shit fucking pisses me off. Everything's cool. Everything's fine. And then some conceited fucking cunt bitch comes along and feels that she has the right to threaten perfectly fine people. Spike puts his hand on Gunner's shoulder, "Calm down, dude." GUNNER: No, fuck you! It's not fucking cool. It pisses me the fuck off any time someone feels they can cause shit like that. It's not fucking cool. Goddammit.... (a bit more calmed down) You know, I'd go over there and cut her head off right now, but you'd probably stop me. SPIKE: Do homeless people get drunk? Yeah, I'd stop you. GUNNER: Eh, well fuck.... I didn't mean to say fuck you. SPIKE: I know. You're just drunk and I love you, brother. GUNNER: (smiling) I love you, too, man. (sigh) So, what the fuck have you guys been up to today? SPIKE: Oh, you know... We round up some blankets from a church. We said we knew like seven other people who wanted blankets, so they gave us extra. GUNNER, VOICE OVER: Our whole lives are a scam. We just hope until the very end that it never catches up with us. SPIKE: You and Kevin find a squat yet? GUNNER: Hell yeah, brother. We found the coolest fucking squat. It's this apartment complex, and it has barricadable door. Like, four or five floors. Very badass. FREAK: And after you found it, you spent the rest of the day, drunk as fuck, right? GUNNER: Now, you either know me very well, or you're a psychic... LILY: That sounds like a really nice squat. Thanks... It'll be nice to have a safe place to sleep again. GUNNER: Yeah, and it's so nice, we want to keep it alive and not busted. So, we can democratically make some squat rules later. SPIKE: Awww, where's the Anarchist in you? GUNNER: That is the Anarchist in me. Democratically makes rules. You piece of fucking shit. SPIKE: I know, I know. I'm just playin' with ya'. Sweep, just waking up to the pangs of life... SWEEP: Huh? You found a squat? GUNNER: Yeah. It's really sweet. SPIKE: After we got the blankets, we stashed them. Then we spanged, and picked up some food from McDonald's. It was quite interesting there. Some homeless guy dressed as a clown tried to get some cash from us, until we convinced him that we have shit. It's very depressing when you see homeless people asking other homeless people for spare change. GUNNER: Wow, never thought I'd see the day... Actually, that's happened to me a few times. SPIKE: Right right... Personally, my favorite method of spanging includes involving my girl. Like, new couple, we met at a concert, trying to get bus tickets, or a place for the night. We ask for something that'll get us to where we're going. Of course, we're lying to them. We pitch a line that they'll grab. Something that grab their interest. You can never just come right out and say you're homeless. It is too ugly a fact for people to deal with. Of course that doesn't mean that acting humble doesn't have its benefits. It just means that these yuppies can't stand to see directly homeless people. You say you're trying to get somewhere on a bus, and you're made. You're not homeless, you're not a squatter, or a gutter punk, just someone down on their luck. FREAK: I usually just bark at people when I want spare change. It has a decently low degree of efficiency. SWEEP: I spange pretty well, actually. SPIKE: Yeah, I've seen your loot, you little punk. I should start pimping out you out as a little spanger. GUNNER: (sarcastically) Do that and you'll wake up in pieces. SPIKE: (also sarcastically) Only after you go to sleep in shreds. GUNNER: Oh, ya' wanna fight, ya' bastard? SWEEP: Nah, you guys really shouldn't even pretend to do that. If the people feeding see that, they pack up and disappear. GUNNER: Goddammit... It pisses me off that you're the youngest, but also the most responsible. SPIKE: Yeah, what's your secret, Sweep? SWEEP: Well, I'm young, poor, and I can hold my liquor. So when I spange while drunk, I manage to just come off as that poor kid with an abusive father and a mother who hasn't been around in ages, or the other way around. SPIKE: You ever tell them a story to get them all sympathetic and shit? SWEEP: Sometimes. I can tell them that my mother is a crackhead or that my father is dead. Or I can say that my father is in jail for shooting my mom, or that my father cheated on my mother and she killed him for that and now is in jail. I could tell them the truth, but who gets spare change when they're a runaway from an abusive family? Gunner takes a shwill of his 16 ouncer of beer, looking at Sweep, somewhat intensely. GUNNER, VOICE OVER: Everyday is another crime, another lingering sense of fraud, drowned in the world's booze and pills. By the end of the night, we don't feel anything at all. LILY: Sometimes when I spange, the best method is to ask for something that seems reasonable. Ask someone for a quarter for a phone call, or ask someone for some change to make bus fare. Like Spike said, people can't know that you're homeless. Once they find out that you're just living on the streets, they're going to already think that you're not spending that money on bus fair or a phone call. Crack, smack, booze, whatever. They look down on you, and hope that they never lay eyes on you again. It's truly sad to what depths they push us. GUNNER: And it's only to help them feel more comfortable about themselves, and the fact that American society has granted the homeless the most despicable position in their caste society. SPIKE: Hey, Gunner... GUNNER: (with a smile) What do you want, you motherfucker? SPIKE: I have a present for you. Spike pulls out a small bottle of vodka, opens it, and passes it to Gunner. GUNNER: I think I love you, brother.
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