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The following is a work of fiction. The characters and incidents portrayed and the namesherein are fictitious and any similarity to the name, character and history of any person,living or dead, is entirely coincidental and unintentional.
 THE TRAMP
 
Me the bloke you’d most probably meet while you were going to office,or going shopping, or just walking past me. You’d most probably justpass by me without even a second glance. I guess that’s the bane of Capitalist society. I live in San Francisco. Not that I have a postaladdress where FedEx could be delivering mail. And what I mean by Ilive in San Francisco is that one day I am at one place, and the next atanother. Ha ha. Just another day in the life of a tramp. In my life thereare only two kinds of days, unlike the average salaried American : gooddays and bad days. Bad days are those when I don’t have much to eatand gotta hit the bins to find some scraps. Good ones when it ain’t coldand raining. I guess today’s been a bad day.
 
I was used to hanging around the docks. Every night I set myself underan overhanging pass ( I choose the place about a month back cos itwas free of fellow tramps.) It is one of the connecting lanes thatbranches out from the I65 which lead out of San Francisco. I guess itwas the noise that woke me up. Since I wasn’t used to being disturbedin my penthouse I look around in the semi-darkness which occasionally
 
was illuminated by passing headlamps. “Howdy partner,” I shout at theguy wearing what looked to me like a dodgers cap.
 
He looks up. I am stunned. He’s a chick. A she. She just stands there.With the passing of a overhead 18 wheeler, I get a good glance at herface.
Young. Most probably a runaway. Or a bust druggie. Maybesomething to do with the cops.
Who cares.
 
“Hey young lady. What da ya want?”
 
“Nothing,” she replies. Her voice is surprisingly clear.“ There is nothing here Honey,” I reply. “ Ya looking for food, trust methere’s nothing here. And if it’s a place you want, you can take theother side. It belongs to Max, but I guess he ain’t expected today.” Inthe passing light of the truck I saw her; far younger than I imagined.About twentyish, with a dodgers cap covering her hair, she lookedpale, and haunted. She stood silently. A few moments of stony silencepassed between us. I said : “ if you’re looking for a place to do drugs,this ain’t it. The cops will be here Period. And if they find you lying herearound the bushes enjoying your trippin, half unconscious you’d bespending a lot of time in the 12
th
precinct.“I don’t do drugs mister,” she says quietly.
 
Uptil now I was lying down. But as she walked towards me, I sat up. “Look lady, you get nothing by killing me, ain’t got nothing on meself.” Ilooked hard at both her hands, looking for a weapon of some kind. Ihad my knife until yesterday until those cops got it from me. Rightnow, I was a Christmas Turkey if she showed a gun or something.
 
“ I am tired,” she says. “ I been walking for long time mister, justwanna rest for couple of minutes before I leave for home.”
 
 
“Sure,” I said, still not completely trusting her. Better keep somedistance between us,
I think 
. I offer her my makeshift bunk.
 
“I am not who you think I am mister,” she says removing the dodgerscap. “ got something to eat?”
 
“ Sure, just rummage in my bag and you’ll find a couple of sandwiches.And if they smell bad, oke, just close yar nose and eat.”
 
“Where do you live?” I ask, as she gulps down the whole sandwicheswithout a second thoughts. The food seemed to have broken the icebetween us. “ yonder,” she says. “ at the docks.”
 
“ At the docks?” I was puzzled. “ there ain’t no place to sleep there.”
 
“UMUM. Plenty of sleep, in the old building.” I guess she was foolingme. There was nothing in the docks to sleep. Trust me. The whole placestinks of fish ( if you can get used to it), it’s noisy as hell, and moreimportantly the only thing you’ll ever find there are loads and loads of container shit. And you can’t sleep in them cos they are locked.Whatever it was I spoke up : “ ladie, there ain’t no buildings there, elseI won’t be sleeping in
this
place , would I?”
 
“ I’ve been there for the past week,” she says, smiling strangely at me.I noticed for the first time that her teeth weren’t all that pretty. Shedefinitely had pretty hair. But her teeth were yellow. She
must 
be doingdrugs. Chewable ones. That’s about time when the Lieutenant showedup. Max, walked up trotting upto ourselves, looked puzzled by thestranger. From his initial reaction I guess he was ready to fight for hisplace, his home; but after I told him that the
lady 
would be leaving tosleep at the docks he seemed satisfied.
 
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