"Bum on the Run"

There are a few characters in my neighbourhood that are questionable to say the least. I've mentioned the stinky juggler, and there's the outside soft core porno couple I have encountered, but then there is the bottle collectors that risk there life dodging cars along Quinpool Road. Most obey the rules of the road and just do their thing. For some though it could be bumper to bumper traffic and these crazies decide a good idea entails shoving their cart loaded with about 1000 cans and bottles across two lanes of traffic. Then try to lift it up and over a median looking around as if someone is going to come out and help them.

a) 4 feet to the left there is no median so c'mon.

b) Are you that crazy that you think this is a good idea.

c) NO ONE IS COMING TO HELP YOU, so you can stop your belly aching, once you do miraculously make it across, that people were just walking by staring. You made your pile of cardboard boxes bed, now you have to sleep in it.

One of my favorite fellas that I like to observe is a guy who broke the mold. He has platinum hockey hair and wears usually either a mesh shirt (I detest these) or no shirt. He has a cart and and a ghetto blaster which blares classic pop/rock. His taste in music is acceptable, but it stops there. I have a love hate relationship with this guy. While I love to watch him from a distance stumble, dance and talk to himself in broad daylight, I hate when he parks his disease ridden cart in front of my door. I feel trapped because I don't want to touch it for fear I will contract some disgusting puss filled rash or he'll come around the corner and spit on me. Either way I don't win in this situation. So I end up barricading myself in my apartment until I hear the sound of The Beatles fading in the distance.

This is dude's chariot. It wasn't parked directly in front of my door today, but his tunes were defiantly blaring.