Can't they hear me screaming

Task: write something about the theme of alcohol.
September 22, 2010


Can’t they hear me screaming?
GregW ©


Oh shit, , another sunny day.
This is what people call a great summer.
Not for me though, I do better in the rain, snow is best. I am looking around. Mike and Shirley, the Jedi and Keith have all cleared off.
Bugger. They will have beat me to the best spots.
Wonder what time it is? Doesn’t really matter I suppose, I never do too well out of the morning rush hour, Shirley cleans up best for that but she’s more in your face and performing than I am. Pretty she is, but costs Mike a fortune to feed, I suppose it makes sense.
Anyway, what I need now is a clean sheet. My rag-arsed signs, there’s no denying it, are crap now. I have to write new material. The “Obama and I both want change"  one’s fantastic but it’s gone out of date, it was good for me though. Problem is, other buggers knock them off if they are any good. Then there is no money in them.

I stare around all the junk laying about. Keith’s bedding looks promising, yeah, there’s a nice clean bit. Fantastic. Pen, where’s my felt pen. Right, what was that one.. … oh yeah. I space out the letters, “Let’s do Lunch, it’s your turn to pay.” That’ll catch them. Cardboard is hard to read off though , takes a lot of ink. But, Yeah, that looks okay.

I think the walking there is never as bad as the sitting. You can’t move or someone jumps your spot.

Could you help me out sir? I just need a quid for bus fare?

It looks like the Lloyds stairs are free. Fantastic. I do like this spot, you get to guilt out the bus and the bank people as they queue.
And stairs are always cool, especially in the middle, lots of people dodging around you. I’m squatted, my sign is propped, I’m catching glances and smiling.
“Hey thank you! See you at half one! Yeah!”
“Most kind, I really thank you.”
And
“No, thanks, tried that , didn’t work for me. No really I’m fine right here. Look , I’m being polite please go , I’m not interested. Okay, I’ve tried to be nice but you and your condescending god can go root yourselves. Yeah look, now you are costing me lunch money, will you piss off! Great. ' Thank Christ for that “ I yell after him.
Bloody sanctimonious judgmental do-gooders.
“He was only trying to help you, you know.”
Yeah, well ,( I nudge my cap), he didn’t give me anything.
Then , Thank you madam, really, thank you.
And so the day goes on. I change my sign for the afternoon, this one reads “I am a Time Traveler and only need another 90p to buy a Flux Capacitor”
As usual it scores well for me right through until about sunset.
My last sign change is “bet you can’t hit my face with a 2 pound coin!’
It is worth the pain to get the results this one brings from the party crowd.

The walking is always better than the sitting. The girl at the checkout gives me the ignore as usual but at least now she doesn’t try and short change me.
Not after the last time.
I am still quite proud of that performance.
Anyway she still has her job. And I get what I want every night. A daily escape. Was a good day today so no cider for me. They are doing vodka litres at a couple of quid. I’m onto that. The walking is always better, the vodka is good company.

The junk laying around our sleeping places is looking worse.
Mike tells me it was Keith that has kicked the shit out of my stuff, spread it everywhere and tore up my signs.
The prick.
It was only one sheet of cardboard I took, how’d he even notice it was gone.?.
I’m half tanked and now I need to sort all my shit out. I’ll flatten the bastard if he shows himself. Aw shit. He’s trashed my best sign I can only just make out the words “I’ll bet you 2 quid…’ and he rest has thick muck smeared all over it, I spent ages on that. The bastard. Thank Christ I had a good day,
All sorted, and the bottle finished. not feeling, too bad, at all., .
I’ll do the Headrow tomorrow.

Bugger, another fine day, Mike is snoring with Shirley curled up on his pack. Keith hasn’t had the balls to come back. Miserable bastard. I’ve got a good mind to clear him out. It’s probably not worth it though, Live and let live.

The Headrow is heaving today, I got moved on too much but I’m doing okay I suppose. That same sweet girl gave me another fiver today, had a good smile from her too, she is a sweet thing. And the only sign I could use was the one, “Wife kidnapped, just need another 90p to meet ransom.” which has sort of been okay I guess.
I’m calling it early today. it’s Thursday.
Scotch is in the discount bin on Thursdays. Got to get there early.
I like scotch.

Fantastic, I wake up and finally it’s raining. Hope the bin outside The Light hasn’t been grabbed, big earner spot that, on a wet day.
Again I don’t mind the walk,
I get a couple of quid from an old dear on the bus stand, she’s a sweety.
Shit, Keith’s got the bin spot.
I’ll kick the prick in the balls if he doesn’t leave, the bastard. Yeah, he’s seen me coming. The weak tosser, he’s leaving, Just as well. It’s my wet spot. I smile a bit, sadly.

It’s the act of me cleaning the space next to the bin that makes her smile so I act it up, being more particular.
She’s got about another minute of her smoke left so if I time it right……
Okay I’m set up. I’ll unfold my new sign with a flourish and aim it at her.
She laughs and comes over, drops some coin in my cap and says,
“Try and keep dry.”
I check my sign. She smiles some more and says , that’s my advice. And she goes back inside to work.
The down side of this sign, “I’ll listen to all your advice for just 2 pounds” is that some dickheads think I mean it.
The sign was not a good earner today.
I’m wet and I’m not buying scotch tonight.
I have smiled at more people than I wanted to.
All I want to know is why they can’t hear me screaming.