"What's this lady want's of me?" Been sitting here, not even leaning against the concrete ice-cold pole, shoulders relaxed in an uprise position. Not knowing, my testosterone, assured, eradiation, redneck appearance scares some people away, attracts some other people. People I need to talk to.
And yet, she keep coming over, talking too me, while shelter-meals are served. Time for a joint, I guess, leaving the shelter, into the bush near the river, watching the crows, play in the shallow water, enjoying the midday sun drying their shinny, coal fuzz. "They bath three or four times a day, real clean creatures."
Their straight bill combined with the extraordinary visual fields binocular area, leaves them almost impossibles to get shot.
They see the bullet coming, calculating the probable hail shotguns danger path, adjusting while flying, bypassing the risk of injury way before distress might occur.
"Do you know what a 50,000 dollar curtain looks like?" I ask the lady. No, if that exists...
"Well," continuing my story, "Honey, we need new curtains, these's are old and smelly." I don't think so, but then again, she's the woman in the house, she knows best, doesn't she.
Nice blue overpaid curtains to replace the old ones, who were just fine, to start with. She might just have truck a sensitive nerve-chord.
Honey, this coach doesn't match the new curtains, does it?" I think it does, but she's still the woman of the house, so she knows how to take cares of us the best, doesn't she.
I got her a damn coach, oversize refrigerator, flowered wall-paper, big-screen TV, woolen carpet and what-ever was needed TO KEEP THE PEACE IN HOUSE. Slaving away as a railway guard, spending every bloody penny on doing exactly more of the same of nothing.
She can keep it all. Left Thunder Bay. Enjoy traversing Canada, listening to my transistor radio, watching the crows as they learn me the ways of the street.