Eavesdropping on the Homeless Kids
A Short Story by Lukas Sherman
Written using the suggestion "Routine"
Originally featured on 04-12-2007
As part of our series "Things you can live without, but most people choose not to"

”I woke up in the sun this morning.”

The one with the pelt like mohawak opens his breakfast burrito and picks at it.

“There’s a lot of shit in here.”

The one in the green army jacket has about 20 ketchup packets for his fries. They both eat. Mohawak takes part of his burrito over to a girl in a wheelchair. She takes a bite.

“Hey, you didn’t tell me it was spicy!”

A shorter guy in a torn hoodie sits down with his coffee and starts singing a song about scabies.

“Infected…scabies…yeah….infected with scabies. Whoo-whoo…scabies.”

“Is that the scabies song?”


The two guys finish their breakfast. It’s Saturday morning at the drop in center.

“Good breakfast.”

The other nods.

From across the room someone yells. “I need crack!”

Someone retorts, “Check your ass!”

“Hey, is anyone not on probation?” a tired looking pregnant girl with dyed hair asks.

Army jacket looks at one of his many unused ketchup packets.

“Anaheim, California. Made in Anaheim. Good old Anaheim.”

“Tonight we’re gonna drink 40s and do some coke. Get fucked up.”

The hoodie guy starts a new song.

“Coke…snortin’ it up my nose…coke…it’s good to snort…sniff, sniff. Whoo-whoo.”

“Is that the coke song?”

“Yup. I’m taking that shit to American Idol.”

“Yeah, it’s coke and 40s tonight. It’s like cookies and milk.”

“This one time I had my 40 outside and the cops told me to drop it and I was trying to finish it. And they were yelling at me to drop it. So I did and it broke. And they said I attacked them.”

“What happened?”

“They fuckin’ attacked me. Like 4 guys. One said he was gonna taser me and I’m like ‘Go fuckin’ head! Taser me! Do it!’ But he just punched me in the gut. I wanted to throw up on him, but I wasn’t that drunk. Fuckin’ cops.”

“Fuckin’ cops.”

The volunteer looks up from her landscape painting, done in used gum.

“Do you want to split a cigarette?” Mohawk asks.


“We’re gonna be working motherfuckers soon. Can buy whatever we want. No more homeless faggots.”

They walk towards the door.

“Hey, I think that asshole is writing down what we’re saying.”

“Fuck that fucker, let’s smoke.”


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