Roots

I've seen a lots of things in my days; puppies first opening their eyes on some misty August morning, homeless children fighting over a bag of trash, children losing a trash bag in the middle of the street, trash bags floating in the wind, a ghost child floating in the wind, ambulances, a very nice police man. I've seen tri snakes and bi snakes and just plain old snakes, I've seen old people come and go an, god, their names haunt me still.

But there was a time that I wasn't so adventurous or well travelled, a time before I got into this business, before I even knew about places for old people, and to be honset I knew so little of anything. Time passed, as it must, and each year left its own disfiguring scar upon my once undefiled figure, and slowly I  began to see.

It all began with them puppies I was talking about opening their little eyes for the very first time. It was a bitterly cold January afternoon. I was still but a little puppy opening my eyes for the very first time myself. The bridge above us groaned with traffic, but between this and the howling wind, I thing I remember hearing them dogs mew, and I was so excited, and no one was there but me and homeless Jim. These were his dogs (his dog was named Jomeless) pups, and I don't know where Jomeless was this particular moment but homeless Jim rubbed his hands together against the cold and snorted a whole bunch at these pups. He then reached into his tramp bag and pulled out some catnips and handed them to me and we sprinkled them over the pups and threw the plastic bag he kept the nips in into his trampfire (similar to a campfire but with homeless friendly materials and a barrel) and we waited for the nips to do their magic. We sat there in the shadow of that colossal bridge for a time, still waiting, and it began to snow. Homeless Jim jumped up and started hootin and hollerin, and took off his ratty bandana and started spinning it around over his head like a lasso doing some weird hobo dance. He kept this up for a while, getting louder with every other jump, and it he was just screaming and dancing and pointing at the snow shouting "YEEEEHAW YALL YEEEEHAW WE RICH!" And then, and I will never forget this, Homeless Jim looked at me straight in my eyes and stopped dancing. He stood there, trampfire throwing tramp embers into his beard and face, but he kept looking at me like he was surprised to see me even tho i had been standing there the entire time and I had even woken him up from his near death frozen slumber just a little time before this.

He crouched down behind the barrel,and every so often he would peek his head out to see if I were still there and upon seeing that I was would slip behind the barrel so quickly the barrel would shake and once I thought it would surely tumble ovre. After doing this  afew times he slowly rose to his feet, keeping the tramp fire between us, and, still looking me square in the eyes, lowered his hands deep into the barrel/ Flame clung to his beard and without a single indication of pain during this whole thing, he slowly brought his burning hands to his burning face and scowled as he screamed, "I RICH," and blew a couple of enbers in my general direction. He kept repeating, "I RICH, I RICH" and I dont think he blinked one time during this time. Them pups were going nuts now due to the nip, and in the distance, in the driving snow, I could see the tired silhouttes of a band of homelss peoples, coming for the puppies in order to complete the joining ceremony (every homeless person gets a dog thru the homeless ceremony it is actually very nice) but not wanting to have them believe I was there to steal their endless treasures, I left. Long after having left the shadows and groaning of that bridge, I swear I heard a man howling, "I RICH." To this day, I sometimeshear, carried on the wind, a scream quieted by distance and interference, but always I know what it says... "I RICH."


Some artits renders courteys of my good friend John Botchkins