Street Life

As he snuggled his hands in his pockets, protecting them from the fresh Autumn breeze, he thought to himself that snuggle is a good word, a word describing how he was feeling tonight, snuggled in a warm world of his own will, feeling good and taking care of himself. Side-stepping the sparsely-dressed partying youths he was intent upon securing a good feed and a bed for the night and so he congratulated himself on his knowledge of the services in the town. Not inclined to consider the prospect of charity, it was more fitting to look upon these as complimentary services, services he had a right to make use of; after all he had been born and bred here and knew better than the next man just how to get by with the least possible effort.



It had been a pleasant day, he reflected to himself, the enjoyment of bantering with his buddies, fair-weather friends really, but what the heck, sure didn't they come in useful when he chose to make them so? Yes, it had been wise not to return to his mother's house given the price of the bus fare and the need to leave before time. Better to stay in town and get an early start in the morning.



Turning the corner, as the familiar red-bricked building came into view, his easy stroll collapsed into a shuffling shamble and he desperately clutched his chest with his right hand whilst his left arm hung uselessly by his side. Oscar stumbled into the doorway and clawed at the bell.



"It's Oscar, can I come in?"



They observed him suspiciously, experience demanding caution.



"What is wrong with you tonight Oscar?"



"It's my chest, I think I'm taking a heart attack", Oscar took a few rasping breaths before continuing, "I'll be okay, I just need to get some food and some rest".



"Better come in then and we'll call an ambulance for you".



Jolted into the realisation that he had overplayed his hand, Oscar hastily retracted, "I think I fell, it's my ribs, they feel like they're broken or cracked".



Each taking an arm, the staff resignedly aided Oscar up the short, tiled stairway and into the makeshift office where they helped him off with his coat before assisting him into a chair in the open reception area. It was quiet tonight, only four other men sat at the tables, all determined to ignore Oscar. Each had their own misery, their own story to tell and none relished the idea of Oscar interrupting their personal dramas, the same dramas that served to create purpose to their existence. However, not a person to be easily deterred and in the hope of recapturing some of the atmosphere of earlier in the day, Oscar did nonetheless attempt to impose himself and was studiously blanked. Consequently he turned his attention to the woman who was cheerfully offering him food.



Above all else, Oscar detested cheerfulness; well almost above all else, what annoyed him more than anything was being told what to do. He was happy with his life, no responsibility, being able to do what he liked when he liked and in particular his manipulation of others towards his own purposes. It was second nature for Oscar to alternate between gentle persuasion and brutal intimidation, really he didn't mind which tactic was required as long as he achieved the result he sought. Tonight Oscar had calculated he would opt for concern and if that was ineffectual, well, sympathy or even pity were good options. Good humour not only irritated him, it also somehow negated the validity of his situation.



"Can you bring the food over to me? I've broken my ribs and I'm not able to carry the plate."



A few minutes later and sure enough the food was brought to the table, a generous meal of potatoes, vegetables and beef casserole which Oscar immediately and greedily spooned into his mouth. The reaction took several seconds, the shock of realising the the casserole was in fact curry and the remembering that he hated beef curry or any kind of hot or spicy food for that matter. The shock spurred him into the action of jumping up from his chair with the intention of making his displeasure known. He realised his mistake almost immediately and crumpled once more into pitiful pose, approaching the kitchen with his plate held precariously in his left hand and right arm dangling helplessly. Maybe if I ingratiate myself he reasoned, they might not notice.



Meal replaced, Oscar once more settled himself to eat. No sooner had he swallowed the first forkful when two indulgent-looking stranger walked into the open room.



"Oscar, these gentlemen are here to give you a lift the the hospital, you need to be checked out"



Unperturbed, he continued to eat.



"You need to go now"



Growling to himself, Oscar lifted the meat off his plate and accompanied the pandering strangers into the awaiting vehicle. He acknowledged that things were not going as planned, but still realised that a hospital bed is as good as any other.



At midnight the following night Oscar staggered to the doorway and fell against the bell.



"Well Oscar, how are you tonight?"



The response was slurred, " I feel terrible. I don't know what's wrong with me."



"Better come in then and we'll see what we can do."