On The Hunt For Cap'N Crunch

So, today I get me a cravin' for some Cap'N Crunch. After the foul demon, booze, sugary cereal is my lesser vice. So your ole pal Tim heads on down to the Roseland Superette, a neighborhood mini-market and I'm perusing the rows looking for some scrumptious breakfasty treat and I hear one of the gals sez they got a vagrant in the store. Havin' lived the homeless life the past few years I go into defense mode an figure they're talkin' 'bout me. Heck, I don't look all that bad in my new Outreach provided duds, but then old habits die hard I suppose. Must'a been a cop car nearby cuz as I head up front a boy in blue wanders through the door. The gal points past me and sez, "There's a fingerless black man hanging out in back by the cooler." I gets a sigh of relief, cuz she wasn't talkin' 'bout me. But waitaminute! I know a fingerless black guy! Barney! As the cop is hauling him up the isle I suck in my gut and boom, "He's with me." The cop sizes me up and lets his free hand rest on the butt of his gun. "I'm from the Outreach Center, "I add, "This guy's a vet. Last year some punks set him on fire." I sezs. The cop relaxes. "I remember that, "he mutters. The gal sezs he's a thief and I find my inner srength to spin on her and sez, "How can he steal, he ain't got no fingers." The cop grabs my arm, I panic but he pulls up my sleeve. I guess my naval tatoo was peekin' out. "A sailor, huh?" he sezs. He was a jar-head. "Just make sure he gets home. "the cop sez and leaves. So me and Barney head back to the Outreach Center, where he dumps a whole boatload of Slim Jims outta his coat. "I steals 'em with my teeth." he says. In all the excitement I forgot to get the Cap'N Crunch so tomorrow we're gonna hit up Lincoln Candy and Tobacco.

Howdy Partners

Yuk, yuk, folks, it's ole Tim checkin' in and updating all you fellas on the comings and goings of one, Timothy Allan Kisper. Even, though we had us a fairly mild winter up here in North Lake Country, spending a lot of time outdoors and such wasn't too good for this old knuckle-head's health. I came down with some pneumonia and was carted off to the ER by some kindly souls, it's a good thing they didn't throw me in the nut house, yuk, yuk. Well, the Good Lord must'a been smiling on me cuz not only did I git better, but I garndered the interest of some more kind souls who wanted to help me get my life back on track. Thank Ye, Oh Lord for givin' this poor wretched shlub a, what are we upta' 7th chance, yuk, yuk. I got my little room at the outreach center, it's warm an' I got a bed to sleep on. I watch me some TV every night with the other fellas in the common room, got me a good friend, Barney. Barney's a Negro who lost some fingers to the frostbit, so I help him openin' the pickle jar, yuk, yuk. And did I mention all the pickles we can eat. Plus baloney sandwiches, tapioca puddin' cups and the worst ole decaf coffee this side of the Mississippi, yes sir. Anyways, Barney was set on fire by some teenagers a year back, maybe you read 'bout it in the papers, so he's got the flashbacks, that ole PTSD and he wakes up screamin' bloody murder some nights. It's just like the good Book sez, ya don't know how good ya got it, ta ya see someone else who got it worse. Barney's a good Joe and he got my back and I got his. He was a machinist mate in his youth so we got the good ole, USN in common, swappin' yarns about the sea. I almost forgot, I went and got me a job. Well, the outreach center did. Remember how I was tellin' bout that awful coffee, it don't matter cuz I'm clearin' tables at Lucy's Coffee Shoppe and they got all that rich and fancy coffee that an ole bum like me ain't used to. So I guess things are goin' good for me for a change. My frown's been turned upsides down. How 'bout you all, what's shakin'?