I used to be a simple man who lived a simple life with very few of the luxuries that most do. Some might call me a bum, hobo or just a homeless man, but I do just fine. I always used to love living this way. When other kids were sleeping in their nice warm beds, I would stay out and sleep under the magnificent stars, but that was when people were decent. Most have turned to garbage. Some people called me odd but I knew I was the normal one and they were the odd ones. There are very few nice people left in the world today, and those are still not very kind to a harmless old bum. The only thing I ask from them is spare change and food; usually I only get spit on.
Every now and again, when I get the funds together, I like to treat myself to a nice adult beverage or two. I get just enough to get me good and numb. It's usually not the easiest thing to get, seeing how I live in a town that looks down on a bum such as myself, so when I do I enjoy every drop of it. When I do get the money, I go to the nearest liquor store just before dark and buy as much as I can get my hands on. It's usually not much but it's enough to get me good and out of it. I go find a nice quiet place out of the way of most people, usually next to a bridge, so if it rains I will be protected. I look out into the open sky, looking into the vast amount of stars, and I sing. I sing like I'm in front of a full audience at a fancy theater somewhere, even though no one is anywhere close to me. Good thing too because when I am intoxicated I'm a terrible singer. At least that's what everyone tells me. That's how most drunken nights were, Except for one time.
It started off all nice and dandy but then four odd looking chaps walked on up to me. With their pale faces and dark eye lashes all dressed in white except for their black top hats; they looked as if they had just gotten back from a fight; they had weapons and protective codpieces. They came up to me when I was almost finished with a beautiful song and started applauding.
I asked, "can you spare some change?"
They all started laughing and the leader thrust his cane type weapon into my abdomen. He gave me a long stare that penetrated me. In this cold world I wasn't too surprised that this was happening, every day someone gets teased on the empty street. Kids like this usually just have their laugh and then go on with their night, but there was something different about this one the look in his eye. I could tell he had done some wrong things in his life and being as drunk as I was he was looking pretty off. I knew this was not going to end in my benefit.
I told them angrily, "go on, do me in you cowards, I don't want to live anyway, not in a stinking world like this."
With laughter in the background and arrogance in his voice, he said, "Oh, and what's so stinking about it?"
"It's a stinking world because there's no law and order anymore. Oh, it's no world for an old man any longer. "
While I was saying this there was constant laughter from his gang. He removed his cane from my abdomen and I immediately went back to my singing
"The ma…" but before I could get two words out the man with the cane bashed my nose in, stopping me instantly, his gang member joined in. I was stuck there getting kicked and bashed by unknown weapons. Who knows how long it actually lasted, but it felt like an eternity.
I woke up the next morning battered with all kinds of injuries; it is a miracle I lived. I was blood all up and down my body, my face looked like it had be torn off and reattached by a drunken surgeon. I crawled back to my buddies and told them about what had happened and they were enraged. If I ever saw that man again, he was going to get a beat down by me and my friends. That terrible man and his group of pale faced misfits consider us scum, but we will show him what scum can do the time I see him.
Years passed and I did not see this evil man, but I would never forget his dark eye lashes and pale face. Every morning when I wake up I would think about that horrid day. It is in the back of my mind all day, and keeps me up late at night. As time went one I got used to the feeling and I lived with it, but my anger burned inside. I stayed close to my mates so if I ever did see him he would get the beat down of his life. If I ever did leave my mates it wasn't far, usually I was asking generous souls for some extra change. I usually ended up getting nothing, not many people would give a scared up old bum anything nowadays.
On a day like any other day, the sky was calm and the sun was bright. I came up to an average looking man standing by the railing. He was staring off in to the harbor, as if it was the first time he had ever seen it. I asked if he could spare some change. There was no response; he was entranced by the water. He looked like he had lost his soul, but that was none of my business, so I asked him again if he could spare any change. He was still looking out into the bay. He didn't even notice my existence, so I decided to give it one last try. This time it broke his trance and he reached slowly into his pocket, he dug around for a bit; it seemed like this action was new to him. He finally pulled out some change. I was obviously very grateful, that is until I studied him for a second. He looked so familiar
I asked him, "Do I know you from somewhere, brother?"
His focus was still on the water, paying little attention to who I was. "I don't believe so, my friend," he answered, with an unbalanced look in his eye.
"Are you sure?"
He finally looked me in the eye and shook his head back and forth slowly.
"I have seen those eyes before!" I shouted, realizing who it was. His face wasn't as pale now and his eye lashes were normal, but I would never forget that man's face. That look in his eye was altered, but he was still the same man; the man who caused me all that pain and anguish, just a few years earlier.
I put up my fists as quick as I my old withered body could allow, and said, "I never forget a face, I never forget anything."
'Leave me alone brother, I've never seen you before" he said as he was trying to flee. He ran right under the bridge that my fellow homeless friends were living under.
I announced, "This here is the guy who kicked me, and hit me and caused me all that pain."
One man tripped him, he hit the ground hard, and the rest of them rose up from the ground like bloodthirsty animals, ready to demolish him. They all crowded around him; everyone was jabbing him left and right, hitting whatever part of his body that they possibility could. One of my friends stole the package that he had, as the rest of us inflicted pain on him. He looked as if he was going to be sick, like our fist and feet were causing more than just physical pain, but I didn't care. He deserved what he was getting. As soon as the fight had started, the cops showed up and broke the crowd up. I had never seen these cops before; they must have been new to the force. They looked like young brutes. The man we had been assaulting seemed to be even more scared of the cops then we were, yelling out "Oh no! Oh no!" He was put into their car, and they drove off toward the outskirts of town.
This was the last I saw of this man. I wish my boys and I could have caused more pain, but we did all we could, just a little revenge is better than no revenge at all.