Tuesday, August 28, 2007

The Bum

Am I the baddest?
Who else could wear that outfit?
Mr. Nuff can, yeahhh

Richard The Bum

I think that was his real name, but screw it he was a loser. Richard lived in a bedsheets tent in the unfinished portion of the basement not occupied by Jeff. And by "unfinished", I mean some bare earth and lots of bricks and boards and broken doors laying around in huge heaps, and the almost constant scurry of nasty vermin at all times during the night.

Richard smelled. Not just bad, but like someone had taken a diarrhea shit, bent over to inspect it, threw up in it, and left it for a week in a plastic Tupperware bowl in the heat to fester until it was almost alive. He was more than happy to eat the bummins (note* bummins is what called the food Jeff brought home when he was out all day not having a job, usually attained by digging in the trash or begging some guy for his day old donuts or something. I fuckin went hungry on those days) Jeff brought home, and never bothered us to use the shower but would be more than happy to leave the door open while he took the nastiest smelling, loudest shits I have heard in a long time, with the couch I was sleeping on less that 5 feet away.

My older brother hated Richard with a passion, because he was homeless and for some reason my brother got enraged when he thought about homeless people, like simply by existing they had insulted him. He also hated Jeff with a passion, because Jeff called him "Bobo" all the time and he was powerless to stop him or do anything about it because he is so weak and when he gets mad his voice sounds more feminine.

So it was with great gusto that I listened to Jeff and my mom tell my brother that they needed a ride from him, Jeff reminding him as he often did when my brother tried to weasel his way out of helping anyone that the house he was living in belonged to my mother (because no one else wanted it, it was condemned in all ways except the legal one, that is definitely a later post, many, many later posts) and that he, Jeff, would take it back if my brother did not comply with his weekly demands for free goods and services, including rides to wherever it is losers go.

My brother of course grudgingly acquiesced, and we all rode the Metro over. The hilarious part, dear reader, is Charles decided he wanted to tag along because he does not get out much, and so he was going to ride along as well.

With a smelly homeless man accompanying us, we blended in very well with most of the other fare on the metro going up and down 39th street that day. We got to my brother's house, and he said I should go along, which was great because I did not like his wife all that much. I get in, Jeff gets in, and my brother stops in his tracks as Richard gets in, a little anguished fart escaping him as he grunted with effort to fold himself into the front seat.

"Get your stinking ass out of my car you fucking bum!" My brother exclaimed with love and emotion. The hilarious part is Richard did not even blink at this, he just closed the door and looked straight ahead. Jeff got out and went off on him though:

"Listen here, Bobo, this is your mother's house' never mind that she had told us she did not want it and that's the only reason he took it. I could see him shaking with anger, and it made me giggle inside. Anyway, he got back in the car, where Richard, having sufficiently stunk the car up so it would never come out, was either asleep or well on his way there, and we took Jeff to his crack dealer's house.

Jeff and my brother got into it numerous times. I am told the reason Jeff spoke to me with a small modicum of respect was because he was afraid I was going to go off and smash his face, and I did little to allay that fear. My brother always ended up getting all mad and calling him names behind his back, tell in me how he was going to knock him out, which was funny because he himself had been knocked out twice by residents at his nursing home for trying to bully them (WWII vets kick ass even in their 80s), which I will expand on tomorrow.

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