Gun-totin', Chronic-smokin' Hearse Initiator (ludickid) wrote,
Gun-totin', Chronic-smokin' Hearse Initiator
ludickid

Tasteful San Antonio: The Dumpening

As I may have mentioned before, my walk from the parking lot to the building where Yellow Rectangular Border Publishing is located takes me through a stretch of Tasteful San Antonio I like to call "Hobo Alley", thanks to the large number of winos ready to put the touch on whoever crosses their path. The entire area is dotted with transient hotels and predatory lenders, right before you get to the glittering jewel that is downtown SATX.

As I know I've mentioned before, these hobos enjoy taking a dump on the sidewalk, a fun activity that makes my commute a wonderland of the senses, especially once summer hits. However, lately, they have also taken to pissing in doorways, which, combined with the frequent pools of vomitus I encounter, makes every morning's stroll a fascinating tour of the human excretory system.

Due to the almost numbing frequency of this exposure, I have taken to using my own system of annotation: "Today was a two-dick day," I might say to a co-worker, or "Not so bad today, Rick*, today was just a one-dump day." No-dick-no-dump days are increasingly rare. Just as I cannot fully account for how fat I have become (although I overeat garbage and drink too much, I feel I can gain ten pounds simply by walking ten feet in this city), I cannot account for the quantity and fecundity of the fecum produced by this city's bum population. I used to live in Chicago, home of five million people, at least half of whom were homeless, and I see more human shit here in a week than I did there for 12 years. It's a goddamn mystery, is what it is. I mean, I have theories, but this post has probably grossed you out enough already.

*: True Fact -- fully 40% of the people I work with are called "Rick" or "Andrea".
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