Harry Hobo

Harry opened one eye and then the other. He could see. He could see first thing in the morning. That wasn’t always true. That was a good sign. He was sleeping in an alley. That was another good sign. He sometimes woke up in a trash bin or a gutter. He could move his fingers and his toes. He checked his pockets and found half a bottle of wine. This was going to be a great day. He got up and looked around to see what part of the city he was in. Downtown. Not bad at all. There were a few parts of this city he wouldn’t want to wake up in, if he would wake up in that part of the city. He was wearing all his clothes so no other hobo would steal them. He didn’t have much, but what he had was his.

First, he needed to do something about breakfast. A long swallow took care of that. Now for some food. Time to scrounge the dumpsters out behind the fast food joints. If he was lucky he wouldn’t have to fight too many rats for his share. Harry didn’t mind the roaches so much; it was the rats that got to him. One of these days they were going to gang up on him and make Harry their breakfast. A friend of Harry’s fell asleep in a trash bin once and woke up with a finger gone. Harry’s friend wasn’t too sure but thought a rat chewed it off. Harry’s friend wasn’t too sure of much, including his name. Harry prided himself on always knowing his name. He always knew his first name but sometimes had to think awhile to get his last name.

Lunch wouldn’t be a problem. Harry would go to Brother Mark’s mission and get soup and a sandwich. You had to listen to Brother Mark go on about how it wasn’t too late to turn your life around. Harry knew better. With these guys, it was way too late to turn any of it around. If they had what that took they wouldn’t be here in the first place. But they were here and they always would be here. The sermon didn’t last long and even Brother Mark didn’t seem to expect anything so it was all right.

How to raise the money for another bottle was a problem. It was a problem every day. Panhandle or look for change? Panhandling was rough if the cops were in a bad mood. They didn’t much care about the courts declaring panhandling as a right. They had their ways of discouraging panhandling if the wrong cop got bothered. Then there would be blood involved. Finding money was a little more tricky. People didn’t carry money around as they used to. It could take all day to find enough for a bottle, on a good day. Working all day wasn’t what Harry wanted to do with his life. Harry wanted to drink wine in an alley is what he wanted to do. If he was really lucky he’d find a ten dollar bill and could take a day or two off. Hobo’s aren’t too much for thinking down the road.

Harry saw his old friend Jimmy coming down the street. Harry didn’t want to share what was left of his bottle with Jimmy and certainly didn’t want to talk to him. Jimmy was losing his vocabulary more and more as time went on. Talking to Jimmy was like talking to a very young child. A very young, stupid child. And that was only if Jimmy was having a good day. If he was having an off day he was intolerable. Harry went down an alley to avoid Jimmy. Go to a street, make a turn, make a few more turns, run down another alley and came out on the street right where he started. Jimmy was standing there waiting for him. No matter which way Henry went Jimmy would be waiting for him.

Jimmy gave Harry a puzzled look for a moment but didn’t have enough working brain cells to put what Harry did into any kind of rational meaning. He did notice Harry staring at his hand though. His hand? Oh, yeah! Jimmy ran halfway down the alley and then waved for Harry to come down. When Harry got there, Jimmy pulled open the bag he was holding. In it was a bottle of whiskey. Whiskey! Harry looked at that bottle. Whiskey! A whole fifth. Unopened. Harry wondered if he could talk Jimmy into trading that bottle for the mostly empty wine bottle he had. No, guess not. Jimmy did have enough brain power left to figure that as a bad deal. He also might start hollering and yelling. Jimmy sometimes did that even when he didn’t have a reason. Don’t need the cops coming around. No way did Jimmy get that bottle in a way that wouldn’t land them both in jail. Jail was all right, except they made you shower. Harry already bathed this month. No, that wouldn’t do at all.

Jimmy opened the bottle up and took a big swallow. He then let Harry have a swallow. Then Jimmy fell flat on his face. The good stuff was just too much for him. Harry saved the bottle and decided that Jimmy wouldn’t remember it when he woke up. A bottle of whiskey. Boy, what a day this was turning out to be. All he needed now was a woman. The thing is that the only women he knew he didn’t want. Well, he had whiskey. Women just meant trouble. Harry thought it might have been a woman got him this way in the first place. Maybe not. Who knew any more?

Need to go find a warm place to live until the booze ran out and he needed to get more. An abandoned building where he could make a small fire. Hope it doesn’t get away from him like that other time. Almost cashed it in that time. Lucky the fireman spotted him. Luckier still that the fireman couldn’t smell him. He might have left Harry there. Yea, Harry had to be a little more careful of fire.

Stop at a garbage bin, pick up supper and get a warm place to sleep. Drink some of this whiskey or maybe all of it. A good night’s sleep and tomorrow is another day for Harry.