The scuttlebutt down at the grocery store this morning was that HIV/AIDs Guy is back on the scene after a lengthy incarceration. I always find it uniquely comical in how this one guy can send all the other groupies fleeing for cover. He is like a pretense to the police showing up. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the good pleasure of seeing him today (sarcasm). That guy is a low life.
Sherman did something very uncharacteristic of himself this morning. He already owes me twenty dollars. He always pays me back before asking for more. This morning he asked to borrow twenty more! I am broke and couldn’t give it to him.
“You gotta slow down man,” I told him regarding his drinking. “You stay fucked up all the time these days.”
“I be havin’ issues,” Sherman said as he took another drink of cheap wine.
“What kind of issues do you have?” I asked incredulously. “You get to do what you want when you want to. You can drink when you want. You mother pays the bills and doesn’t give you shit. Hell, I am the one with issues!”
“Yo dad given’ yo ass shit again?” Sherman asked.
“Don’t get me started,” I replied. “The son of bitch told me he is no longer going to let me have my social security money cause he caught me drinking the other day.”
“How in da fuck old are you again?” Sherman asked.
“Thirty four fucking years old!” I exclaimed.
“Dat be da shit, man,” Sherman replied. “Dat do be da shit. What are ya gonna do?”
“I am going to live in my tent and get him off as my representative payee,” I boasted. “That son of bitch isn’t going to run my life.”
“I hear ya brotha,” Sherman said. “But don’t go be livin’ homeless again. Get yo ass a place to stay.”
“I WANT to live in my tent!” I exclaimed. “I WANT to be free again! I don’t want to be a slave to a home!”
“Man, you and you crazy white-ass survivalist mother fuckers,” Sherman said with a laugh. “Next you gonna be eatin’ rabbits yo ass caught.”
I laughed heartily at Sherman’s last statement.
“Hand me that bottle, man,” I said to Sherman.
Sherman handed me the bottle and I took a hefty drink of Wild Irish Rose. I cringed as that coarse drink slid down my throat and burned.
“God, I don’t see how you drink this shit,” I said still cringing.
Sherman laughed and grabbed the bottle back from to take another drink as well.
“Can I come see yo ass at your homeless compound?” Sherman asked.
“As long as you bring the beer,” I replied with a grin.
“I hear ya brother,” Sherman said. “Ole Sherman will look out for ya.”
I patted Sherman on the shoulder and then climbed out of the car to head home. I had just gotten out of the parking lot around the corner when the effects of that stiff drink of cheap wine hit me. Damn, I was feeling good and had a smile on my face as I walked on up the road to home. My belly was full of Dutch courage and I had to fight the urge to go over and give my father my two cents on his recent attempts to control my life.
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