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Soap was pitched over the rim of the plastic bucket carelessly set on the sidewalk, while even more spilled as the squeegee was dipped into it.

The person holding it then scrambled around the thick mass of crawling vehicles, looking for any signs of dirt upon their windows. Not coincidently, he managed to find a strong number with such among these dozens of exhaust-spewing cars.

"How are you this morning, sir??", he asks as he effortlessly cleans the static driver's windshield. The driver let out an indifferent "Fair." as he passed over seventy-five cents. Seventy-five cents. Off to the next car:

"Why don't you get a real job..... maybe you can take the bus to the employment agency,", handing the streetkid a quarter, "and find something to do with your time."

"Have a nice day at work.", he falsely cares.

Another car drives by, its radio playing the local country station, asserting its decidedly rural notions on the world at large.

Redneck's going to stiff me, he believed, one look at my clothes, and he'll be calling me freak under his breath.

*
 

The dining room was filled with such folk; people who don't recall the last time they felt any money in a paper form, people who live quarter-to-toonie every day, people for whom food was merely a basic necessity, not an opportunity to experience culinary variety.

Steve entered the diner with his empty bucket and squeegee, waving to the ones he knew and guessing how many of the unknowns were part of his beat as well. He was one of these people; a member of this select demographic: the squeegee kids. Patrolling the sidewalks like a street cop, but without the authority to instruct the law; carrying only their strategy of survival. Their world consisted of washing windows, carrying change, eating from cheap diners, and just hanging out.

Home was anywhere for some of them; if bad times arrived for a visit, they were bound to drive the inhabitants out into the streets for a night, or much longer, and they'd be forced to find less hospitable places to sleep: a bench, the park, an abandoned building. No choice, they would tell you. They didn't ask to be homeless, just to do their job and live a decent life.

Steve walks up to the counter to order his breakfast.

"I'll have my regular, please.", he says to the cashier, as he does every morning.

"And,", holding out her hand, "I'll have my regular, too." Likewise.

He gives her the four dollars and seventy-five cents for the scrambled eggs and toast, and the continuous cup of coffee. Strange, how even after all this time, he still gets that contempt behind the counter; the contempt that suggests they think of him as nothing but a thief. That if he doesn't pay up before he gets his food, he'll bolt out before the waitress gives him the bill. Is it merely habit, that everyone has to speak ill of non-conformist youth? To look at them and believe they must be a threat to the social order, and to public morals? It had to be that.

His plate arrived to him. Eggs and toast. Toast and eggs. Eggs and toast. The rare sausage. Eggs and toast again. That was the typical breakfast for him. To be quite fair, the scrambled eggs were actually well cooked. Always hot, and with a fine texture unlike that which he received at home, as a child. He really can't recall how those eggs tasted - it's been so long since he stepped foot in his parent's house. So long that he'd feel awkward if he ever dared to return......

Steve sees his friend Victoria, a partner in this loose enterprise, sitting at the other side of the diner. He takes his plate over to her table, while she, quite far in her meal, consumed her sausages: "Hey, guy, the egg looks half-finished this time."

"Yea, umm.... usually it's so damn mushy." , not wanting to look as if he liked anything around here.

"It's better than eating from a garbage dump, in any case."

"It's not so grim here. It's a good life; you don't answer to anyone, you can go wherever you want, you can make your own money..."

"So a few burnt sausages and mushy eggs never really hurt anyone....except the restaurant critic perhaps.", Victoria envisioned.

"I don't plan on reaching that stage very soon.", Steve comforted himself.

"Anyway, I guess I've exhausted that corner this morning. The rush hour traffic is gone, and I feel like a goof just standing there waiting for a good pileup of cars. People will think I was a street-walker or something, I've actually been propositioned sometimes!!" , she groaned.

"Hey, that could fill the time between nine and four!"

"You pervert!", stunned at this outrageous statement, yet after five seconds forgot about it. "You know, I've never been outside this little area in about a year; isn't that strange?"

"Why does it matter? You couldn't make any money out there anyway."

"Quite true... we have thousands of people every day here. What can you do out there in the country; throw yourself in front of oncoming traffic?!?!", she chuckled.

"You could always flag down a tractor, they move slowly enough!!"

As they were laughing, their friend John had just come out of the bathroom.

"Hey, man, I didn't realize you were here!", Steve brightened.

"Yea...well, I haven't been feeling so well today, actually."

Victoria smiles widely at this. "Yes, he has!", perking up suddenly. "You know...all that outdoor work, sometimes I think he's just lazy!!", gently shaking his head.

"Just plain lazy....", he readily agrees. "Let's say we quit this joint. We'll just take a bit of a longer stroll this morning."

"What's your rush, man?", Steve speculates at John's peculiar mannerisms, as he seems to be looking around him, expecting something. "You're pretty excitable, is someone after you? I've been waiting all night for this meal!!"

"Ah, it's just crap anyway. It'd be the same tomorrow.", he assures.

"We'll just have to try not to choke ourselves on it, then. Hurry up!!", Victoria commanded.

"Alright..... but I'd like to be able to enjoy this trash!", Steve said, attempting humour.

He saw the look of his friends, how stubbornly disdainful they were. He took a few more mouthfuls of egg, simulating disgust across his face.

"Let's go.....", he said. "I've had enough."

The trio walk across to the door, eyes from each direction tracking their passage. The plates were left, half-finished, waiting to be cleaned by those with dependable work.

*

A different block. A new streetcorner. Unfamilar customers. The best kind. The ones most unprepared for your insistence. The ones who didn't watch out for people like you as they drive down the crowded street, until they are forced to slam on the brakes when they see some reckless kid burst out in front of them, and then look in confusion when they see you clean their windows. You start on the right side of the window, then work your way through until you were very close to the driver. You try to make small talk, as if what you did was entirely natural, like the guy at the gas pump trying not to appear rude. You say that you'll accept anything, just as long as you were compensated for helping them out. Often you'll get money, just so you'll get off their back. But that was fine, since it worked almost every time.

The three squeegee kids marked out their territories, encompassing a few blocks. Water was easy to get. There was always gas stations and car washes nearby, with waterhoses and soap. When they got the water and soap, they were ready to work. Car after car would go by, and most of the time, Steve, Victoria, and John were able to get the driver to stop and wait patiently. The three were at this routine long enough that they could get the entire window finished, as well as receive their change, in about 20 to 30 seconds. And the honking of the horns behind their latest customer didn't bother them so much anymore, either.

These three entrepreneurs happened to be fairly close to city hall this day; they were unaware, once the evening rush began, that the mayor of the city would, like many other commuters, attempt to return home from work.

The mayor had been well-aware of the sorts of individuals on the street. The sort that invaded a driver's personal space. The sort that put innocent people on the spot and demanded money for a job that the driver had not asked to be done. The sort who were too lazy to find real work. There were large numbers of these people in this city of millions. Every street had a handful of them jumping into oncoming traffic.

He had a city to maintain. The crime rate was much lower overall, but the people, poisoned by a media engaged in intellectual swindling, saw only the stories of youth crime and subversive teenagers and young adults, and were frightened and appalled. Business was important, and disliked the sight of these people possibly driving business away. A city such as the one he oversaw had to look attractive, like a potential bride to a potential suitor. Lucrative businesses, tourists, and even the city's own citizens would judge a city based on its appearance. Squeegee kids cluttering the streets was not an attractive character trait.

The mayor turned his car onto the street closest to city hall, and he saw immediately that there would be inconvenience. A young man, bursting out from the sidewalk, flagging down cars with his long metal stick, as if he were actually assisting these poor souls.

He himself was used to this, however. At least once a day, some smart aleck would take advantage of the fact that even he, a mayor of a town, had to drive a car to work on the same roads as every other victim. And, besides, he felt alright - after all, his bill outlawing these types of actions was already going through second reading.

*

John received twenty dollars for his troubles. Not bad considering that three people drove off without paying him. Next target - a new red car, probably too shiny to need cleaning, but, you never know - the driver might appreciate John's intentions.

The car approached him, the face behind the windshield becoming clearer. John realized that the odds were slim that the driver would reimburse him for his hard work. But John's wicked grin was proof that he was going to have a bit of fun with this particular customer. Right away, he leaned over the window, vigorously wiping the window with the squeegee.

"Hey, get off the car.", the mayor says sardonically, knowing his words will fall on deaf ears. "I have a home to get to before bedtime."

"That's no way to treat your constituents.", John replies with contempt, while visually swelling that indifference with the blatant display of marijuana imagery on his t-shirt. He continues wiping the window even after it's already sparkling beneath the afternoon sun. "Besides, what'll you say when everyone hears about this."

"They'll say it's about time somebody did something about this.", as he forces John off the car.

"Have a nice day, mister mayor.", waving foolishly.

Both Steve and Victoria approach John with their buckets and squeegees.

"I think our pockets have grown heavy enough...let's call it a day!", Victoria proclaims.

"That was the mayor... apparently he doesn't like my kind of people!!"

"Don't tell me you actually tried to wash his windows?!", Steve grinned with amazement.

"Well, I figure he ought to receive first-hand experience before he condemns us to an eternity of formal work stoppage."

"Geez, you don't mean that he's planning to pass some law, is he?", Victoria lamented.

"Here I am, trying to make a decent living the best way I know how, and the mayor - with the help of his boys in blue - decide to jack up the price of having to put up with him."

"There's not much we can do at the moment....", Steve acknowledged. "....unless some crafty lawyer brings up the Constitution. Every insignificant cause can be fought on constitutional grounds!"

"As well as our cause, of course!", John stated without irony.

Steve looks at his watch in silence, before kicking his bucket over, water bursting over the dry sidewalk. "Our significant cause..... is about to rest for the day."

"Are you sure....", asked John, curiously.

"Yea, we can't just stand around here all day.", Steve said forcefully. "There's many other places where we can experience nothing exciting."

"Yea, sure!", Victoria smiles. "We could always go out to the park tonight, and camp out, so to speak."

"Why would you want to do that?", John asked. "Just .... sleep? In the park?"

"Hey, it's wonderful out there this time of year; it's so warm! And besides, it's not as if I've never done it before."

"Both of us have, actually.", confessed Steve. "It was ... um, last fall, I think....", with Victoria agreeing. "Never be evicted from your apartment in October, because it's goddamn cold out in the evening."

"Hey, I'd just crash in a lonely building or something.", advises John.

"I never found one until the next day. Toronto's a big city, you know. It takes a few blocks to see all the sights."

"Well, hopefully we won't, you know, get robbed!", John grinned nervously.

"I wouldn't worry.", Steve commented. "You have to understand that the typical robber would go to a place where there appeared to be a chance of actual gain. You know, people in the mainstream, the ones with so-called good work, the ones bringing home the pay cheques. You see, robbers aren't robbing them of money, they're robbing them of their prestige! A robber wouldn't rob a bunch of people sleeping there in the park!" Steve tries to paint the most idealized picture possible. "They'll naturally assume that they are homeless people, with nothing to lose."

"But what if they decide to beat us up!", John asked.

"C'mon, who'd beat us up? We're the chosen ones - the oppressed! The oppressed don't beat up on the oppressed, do they? We'll be alright!"

"Well, do you want to do something to pass the time?", Victoria asked cheerfully. "There's always beer, eh?"

The two men smile knowingly. "The liquor store is just down the block. Your wish is our command!"

They found themselves an obscure area near the edge of the park where they could drink their beer with little risk of being bothered.

"Wow, I really didn't think we'd ever find this place.", Steve said. "Did we even know where we were going?"

"Hell, we don't need to know where we're going!", John boasted.

"Yea!", Victoria giggled. "Who cares about the correct path - just as long as it's a path." She guzzles much of the beer from the bottle. "And it's a path that you enjoy!"

They sat in their private party room, enjoying their alcohol. They drank for a fairly lengthy period of time, bantering to excess, even when the words grew to lack any importance or logic.

Soon, it was felt that they ought to take a bit of a stroll again in the park. By that time, it was close to dark. Staggering slightly from the influence of alcohol, they hoped that perhaps they could find an even nicer place to sleep.

"Shit, it's so dark, don't they have lights around here?", Steve asked.

Victoria looks up, her eyes failing her. "I don't know...... Wait!! I think ..... I see.... a broken streetlamp.....", she concluded blandly.

"Who cares about light? I've never needed any guidance......and I ain't going to start now!", John called with bluster.

The three continued their slow, confused trek across the blackened night. Their hearts pounded at the thought of bumping into something without warning. Victoria actually found the roadway for a while, but her right foot kept slipping off the edge of the pavement. This bugged her so much that she wandered away from the road again. The other two merely laughed, said stupid things, and yelled out even more stupid things.

Until, that is, a dull thud. Then, "Ow!". Then laughter. It was John, lying on his back, near a tree he just walked into.

"Guys,", he said, grunting. "I think we've found our resting place....."

*

Victoria was the one to wake up first. The image she opened her eyes to was beautiful, intriguing. The vastness of the park was apparent in the absence of people and their distractions. She surveyed the dewy grass, the large, healthy trees, then looked skyward to the hazy clouds obscuring and bleeding the light from the sunrise. So long since she's seen an actual sunrise. Her places of residence from the past couple of years forbade the sight of sunrises, instead offering only images of other buildings.

There was a time when she was surrounded by nature, a past she never discussed. Her home in the country invited beautiful morning sunrises, and the people took such events for granted. But the country is no longer part of her life - the sunrises were forgotten, until this moment, which, even so, was only a skewed version a real country morning. In the park where she sat, evidence of urban sprawl, pollution, noise..... tainted the natural facts of the world. Why couldn't life be like that - just sitting around, watching sunrises, hanging around, not following the rules, not having to be somebody........

A ruffle close by. Victoria jerked her head around in stunned reaction, until she realized that it was Steve, removed from his sleep.

"Did you have a nice sleep, Steve?"

Startled, "Hey, how long have you been awake?"

"Not too long, I think..... just enough to peel my eyelids apart, really."

Steve warily sits up on the moist dirt where many feet have trampled upon previously.

"It's going to be a nice morning, I think --- lots of money today!", Victoria grinned.

"Yea, it's great having your own job, your own means of survival. Those people that crawl to their so-called careers every morning, they don't know what they're missing...."

"They miss,", Victoria opening out her arms, "this nice fresh air --- hours and hours of it every day."

"God knows why everyone bitches at us for it..... I think it's because we're not paying taxes!! Oh well, they can't refuse us at the emergency ward, can they?!?!?"

They both laughed knowingly at their truth.

"We're so cruel...", Victoria grinned.

"But we wouldn't have it any other way.", agreed Steve. "Our jobs ---- and we are working ---- are the perfect ones. Sure, the drivers don't always like us, but we don't have to answer to anyone that matters."

Victoria glances over to John. "Wow, this guy is totally out of it -- maybe he wants to sleep his profits away?" Steve laughed, and poked John gently in the ribs, to see what would happen.

"hun...hey...I"m not feeling very well today... I want to stay home....", mumbling back to deep sleep.

"Geez, you'd think he didn't sleep at all last night!", Steve commented.

Victoria remained silent, examining the park. Her eyes liquefied, as her memories of the past returned to her.

"You know, I think I'm going to take advantage of being here......", before getting up from her relaxed position.

Victoria ran around the barren park like a child after receiving all of the toys one could ever want. She ran without regard, knowing that nothing, absolutely nothing, would impede her exuberance. She heard the shredding of grass beneath her feet. She felt the air caress her face as she ran through it.

Some of the trees lining the edges of the clearing were large and thick. The trunks were thick and sturdy, and the branches extending from the trunks were almost as strong. So Victoria decided to attempt climbing one of those trees; she ran up the trunk, and clung to one of the lower branches. Suddenly, she swung awkwardly and let herself drop to the ground. She began laughing. Stumbling back on to her feet, she noticed Steve pacing about near where they slept previously. She walked back to where he was.

"Man,", a bit out of breath. " I remember when I was stuck in college. The days when I'd skip were wonderful!! I climbed trees all day; I think I'd rather have been a jungle creature when I graduated."

"But...", Steve wondered, "did you ever graduate?"

"Hell, no.... I had enough of it; it didn't challenge me too much. Why would I want to do what everyone else does -- I want to be different!! Different from everyone else. Even if that means being kicked out of parks or abandoned buildings every fourth night."

"So obviously it doesn't disturb you much that there is no future for you, huh?", he says derisively.

"Oh, stop it!", she mocked. "Really, I have my whole life ahead of me; I'm still a young girl, you know!", she giggles, making a cute face. "I still have many mornings ahead of me in which I can just sleep in, or just wake up with the knowledge that I'm not weighed down by any responsibilities. Well, except responsibility for my own personal, petty issues. But that's enough for any self-respecting person to handle..... who needs the hassles of the outside world....."

"Yes, I understand - I never worried too much about university at all!", he laughed. "Right when I finished Grade 12, I had to find work. Any work. Obviously it would be something menial - although I had no interest in working behind some goddamn food counter! Even if I have purchased enough of that junk that I ought to have had many heart attacks!", he snickered. "When I came here, I realized that it was not going to be easy. Then I saw all of the people with the squeegees, washing the windows - and I thought that was pretty cool! Self-sufficiency to the ultimate degree!

"I suppose your family was really thrilled when they got word of your posh employment!", Victoria scoffed.

Pause. "Yea..... overjoyed.", giving a weak, phony smile.

"Well, I don't know much about my family anymore, either.", Victoria drawled. "That if... if that's what you were implying about yourself of course! Now I just wander....", her voice floated. "Wander, wander, wander......! What else can I do?", creating an outlandish imitation.

As they chattered, a dog, lacking a collar, sniffed about near the comfortable bodies.

"Oh, so cute... he looks lonely.", Victoria smiled. "I don't think he even has a home to call his own."

His wet nose continued its investigation, sniffing around at the sleeping body of John, never stopping to catch a breath for a long time. The body was like a mound of trash nobody considered to move. It was inconsiderate; perhaps it was the dog's resting place. Perhaps he was a stray, who had no choice but to sleep here day after day. This heap of nobody resting on its spot, however, could have found another place to live. The dog felt that it had no other place. So it did the only thing it knew how. It looked up at the two guards and began to growl. He did not respect their presence. He didn't see masters, but creatures displaying contempt for his territory. His dirty white teeth emerged slowly, allowing for his enemies to escape before it was too late.

"Hey, pal, what's wrong?", Victoria sweetly asked. Then the dog growled.

"Go and attack John there, he's sleeping well!!", Steve kidded.

The creature continued his growl. Then it began to bark forcefully, sending pangs of tension into the group.

"I hope that dog's just pissed....not rabid!", Victoria groaned.

"He's not wearing a tag.... I don't think he's...", Steve said as he tries to wake John.

Victoria chose a stick to fling away, hoping the dog would start becoming playful again. The tiny head swiftly turned to monitor the branch's flight, but, while he moved his feet slightly, had not the desire to chase it.

"Oh...poor dog, he thinks he owns the place.", Victoria mused. "He thinks we're trespassers."

"Here, boy!", came a bellow from the other side of the clearing.

Suddenly, the canine, seeming so violent and primal, closed his mouth, ever so slightly, and frantically moved his head to and fro, observing both his master, quickly approaching, and these strangers.

"Gosh, I'm so sorry.", he says, looking down at these people, who didn't even bother standing out of any form of politeness. "He's often like this when he witnesses things that are out of the ordinary; we're always out for a trek to the park, and it's usually barren this time of day. So I guess you guys disturbed him."

"That's cool!", Victoria assured. "He is a cool dog; if only he weren't so high-strung, you know....."

"Yea...", pausing, considering this odd group. "Anyway, I'd like to..... apologise.", digging in to his jacket pocket, before pulling out a wallet. "....I know that it's a tough life, and I only brought more hardship...so..", pulling out a ten-dollar bill. "....go get yourself some breakfast."

A few seconds passed, before John, still bleary-eyed, parted the stranger from his money.

"Don't waste it now.", trying to be jovial and helpful. "Bye!", walking away with his dog.

The three looked at each other. Steve and Victoria felt somewhat disgusted. That damn dog lover thought they were homeless, that they were helpless in apparent danger, that they needed money from some holier-than-thou stranger in order to live.

"Shit!", John spat.

The two others looked thoughtfully to him.

"Shit, guys.", he continues. " Imagine how much money he would have given to me if I washed his windows!!!"

*
 

The three of them walk down the busy sidewalk, forced to blend in with the other citizens and their alien values. Steve, Victoria and John keep moving, block after block, feeling refreshed, feeling so proud that they are not like those other walkers, walking to their suffocating job, walking to their oppressive religions, walking to their conventional lives. Those people were the boring one, these three, however, they were in touch with the real world. That's what they would say, if you caught them in a heavily guarded moment.

"So do you want some coffee?", Victoria softly asked John, as they arrived near where they normally meet for breakfast.

"..yea, why not?", glancing about, seemingly unaware that the diner is just yards away. "You... don't mind, do you, Steve?"

Pause. "Huh... where are you going?", he asked. "The diner is right here...."

"Just over there at the coffee shop for a bit.", her eyes shifting eagerly toward John. "Something different, for one day only!"

"Sure... okay --", Steve slowly said, before noticing that the two weren't paying much attention to him. "Are you sure you don't want me to tag along?!?"

"No, that's okay -- three people will just hold everything back. You do your thing and we'll do ours and we'll be done in half the time, no harm done."

Steve realized that there was much more going on underneath those phrases which he dared not ask. "I'm going to be at the restaurant. You know, the usual spot. "

"Oh, good!! See you later!", she says with great joy, as the two of them cross the street, leaving Steve to his own devices.

One of the odd things about people who live on the street is the randomness that certain encounters bring. Victoria and Steve met in a food bank, they met John as they moved from cheap apartment to cheap apartment. Who knew what sorts of people they'd run into in the next year.

Victoria had not known John very long; odds were that she wouldn't see him for much longer. In this life, romances never stabilize, as people rarely stay in one spot long enough to commit to them. When one's potential partners, like you, spend lives in which they hang out on various streets collecting change, never knowing how much money they'll receive, if they can stay at their apartment long enough, or if their next apartment ends up being a jail-cell due to loitering the streets repeatedly, getting hitched is a trying task. Who knew whether Victoria and John would even enjoy each other's company in two months. For all Steve knew, in another week, he'd have two new business partners to help him survive this city, so even he'd never know whether they could attempt a relationship.

He entered the restaurant, anticipating another serving of his usual eggs and toast. As he walked to the counter, the restaurant proprietor came towards him. He did not look pleased. "Hey, you get out of my restaurant."

Steve was speechless as the owner rages, not able to say anything momentarily until, "I just want something to eat, not to rob you ---- what's going on?"

"I'm not having any of you bums touching my food again after what you did to that bathroom yesterday."

"What did I do?!?!"

"Oh, you know what you did. I have kids, some of my own and some who come in here with their families. I don't want them to be reading that crap when they're on the toilet! We have good people here; people who actually respect other's property. They don't want to have garbage about how great illicit drugs are. Imagine if someone had been there when you were writing that, and he sold the kid..... crack, or something? How do you think I'd feel about that?? Keep that garbage to yourself."

"It's not...", Steve began, but the shrieking wasn't done yet.

"The city will be cleaned up someday; the mayor will see to that. Perhaps then I'd be allowed to get back all the money you owe us!!"

"Money?", shocked at this accusation. "I don't owe you a single penny. I pay for all my food."

"In your dreams. I remember when the waitresses could actually wait for their customers to finish their meal before they got the bill. Now we have to watch that you actually have anything worth giving before you even eat. You don't even tip anybody."

"We can't afford it!!", Steve snapped back.

"Well, then get a job!"

"I work everyday!"

"Do you call harassing people and nearly getting run over by hundreds of cars every day, work? Why don't you get a real job and stop carrying that change around where ever you go?"

".....we work.... we have mouths to feed. I'm sorry if it's not how you do things, but, in the end, we all do what we have to do."

"Crap - you imbecilic child. You have to grow up someday .... you look like..at least 20, 21. The world is not your oyster - it's already been reserved for everybody else. Some of us get that pearl, the rest of us get the slimy stuff around it. And people like you think you can live here at our expense; you cannot pay taxes, or try to do anything productive. Maybe it's okay for you now, with your immature attitude, but, boy, I'm afraid in a few years you're going to have to fight for your scraps, or else you won't be left with a thing. Nobody takes your crap seriously -- freedom? Freedom from what? Your kind of freedom has no purpose. Can you look back on your life and tell me what you are proud of, what you've accomplished......."

Steve looked around, noticing pairs of eyes staring at him like an unfortunate soul. He falls silent, terrorised by this examination into his value system, his way of living.

Having a lack of a strong comeback, he resorts to abuse. "Fine, asshole,", as he stamps to the door, "I won't eat your filthy food anymore! Your breakfasts weren't so good anyway!!"

He stormed out of the restaurant, the door banging behind him. Steve told a bit of a lie, of course. The breakfast wasn't that bad. But the attitudes of everybody else left a sour taste in his mouth.

*

Victoria stood close to a bench, impervious to the potential reactions of the ordinary citizens if they were to comprehend exactly what she was doing. The cigarette in her hand was not the legal kind; it was a bit of marijuana given to her by John. Where he found it, only he and God would know. But, at this particular moment, Victoria was not exactly concerned about where John found it, or what God would regard of it.

The smoke wandered, like an apparition, over her face. The smoke was a shield, protecting her from that which tried to confine her, to tell her exactly what she has to do in life in order for it to be productive. Within her hazy box, she was free to indulge in silliness and delight within her own mind, and was unaware of the critical eyes of some of the older passers-by.

"Victoria.", a voice spoke. "--- don't fall asleep on me!"

"Hmmm.....", oblivious. "John?"

"Yea, babe.", he affirmed. "I take it that you like the stuff."

"Sure, I do!", she drawled. "It's been a while since I've done this - and it's something worth coming back to, apparently." A couple of deep, heavy drags. "Hey, where did this come from, anyway? How'd you get your hands on it?"

"Ahh, well.... that's a dirty little secret which you shouldn't stick your fingers into....", he laughed, distracted.

"Maybe I want to get dirty!", she smirked. "Come on... speak up!"

"Would you believe me if I told you that I'm a member of the Marijuana Party - and that this was part of the campaign contributions, which...."

".....like those very rare politicians, actually give back to the people, as a token of your appreciation to those who need it most!", Victoria finished, laughing.

"Yea, exactly.", he gestured.

"John, you're full of shit.", shaking her head. "But I like you...."

Steve returned to join them.

"Well, I guess we'll have to find a new denomination to practice our culinary religion.", he announced wryly.

"What are you getting at?", Victoria asked, puzzled.

"I went to the diner, and he forbade us to return!"

"Ex-communicated by the pontiff of greasy diners!", John mocked. "Scandalous!"

"We'll show him, guys!", Steve proposed. "There's always McDonald's down the street - they'll accept anybody, - your poor, your hungry, your masses - as long as you eat! They don't ask any question - they just love to see you smile!"

The three went to McDonald's, were served without question, and went on their merry way. John suddenly received a burst of energy, and decided to start work, once he seen how many cars went through the drive-thru. Steve and Victoria were not quite ready yet, so they sat down beside the plastic Ronald McDonald.

"Hey, guy, I've something to show you.",Victoria whispered to Steve. She pulls a plastic bag from her pocket. It contained a small amount of marijuana.

"Wh..where did you get that?", said with a blend of shock and amusement.

"Isn't it great--- we'll have something to do which won't give us nausea and headaches in the morning!!"

"But -- who gave it to you?", he wondered. "Don't you know how much that costs..... or is this the second-rate stuff?"

"Oh, John gave it to me; no big deal. I still have change left in my pocket. Don't get ethical on me! We all need some escape."

She gazes at the cars and people going by. "Kinda wish I was still at the park; even after that rabid dog incident."

"Um, exactly how long have you been... buying stuff from him?"

"Oh, first time --- but that was so funny yesterday, he scrawled a bunch of stuff on the stalls yesterday; it was so funny, I guess he was saying that smoking up cures all your stress and that everyone who reads it should buy from him and they'll realize how right he is. Funny, huh??"

"Wow,", quietly stunned. "I never realized he had another occupation, so to speak."

"Yea!", she chattered. "Why do you think he has so much good shit in his apartment."

True. John wasn't as nomadic as he and Victoria. He did have an apartment, even if he was rarely in it. Once, Steve dropped by and noticed the glaring prominence of a brand new TV set and CD player surrounded by the garbage, cheap, unwashed clothes, and unmade sheets of a typical cheap apartment.

"I just figured he had a sporadically supportive family!", he laughed, forcibly.

"No way - just like the rest of us, don't you worry!", she grinned.

John returned from his corner. "Well, a pretty good day so far - I got about fifteen dollars, I think."

"Planning to move on there, rich guy?", Steve responded subtly.

"Yea!", he gibed. "The business has dried up, what do you expect?"

"There's probably some more traffic near the bus stop.", Victoria believed.

"So,", Steve asked John as they began walking. "Do you think you'll make it through the next week?"

John let escape a blaring yawn. "God, yes.", expressing his exhaustion. "Don't worry about it."

"Rough sleep last night?", he asked.

"Yea.....umm, yea.", John hesitated.

*

The bus stop was a worthy area for bilking unsuspecting drivers. If a bus ground to a halt, all of the cars behind would be forced to follow suit. A beautiful moment to the eyes of a squeegee kid.

"I think...", says John, ".... this is going to be good. Look, it's insane out here!" Cars were lined up bumper to bumper, stopping for pedestrians, stoplights, buses -- idling just long enough to be easy prey.

"Well, I better get some water.", Victoria said.

She walked to the nearest fire hydrant to steal some water. From an empty plastic container to a filled bucket overflowing with soap suds. The water now turned off, she retraced her steps. Until she heard a hollow thump, and her legs suddenly became wet.

"Huh?", startled more than angry, for a second, until she saw the group of teenagers giggling and looking back at her pathetic sight. "Assholes!", she yells vainly, throwing what little water was left in their direction, but unable to strike.

Shit, she discovered, I still have one more cigarette in my pocket. Those idiots better not have ruined it.

Just then, moisture from a more natural source began to bleed from the rainclouds above. The cars rolled by, their drivers aware of the conditions. Raindrops smeared over the surfaces of the cars, gently washing away much of the prominence of the dirt upon them. Car after car gave Victoria the brush-off, and with each car came even more rain, until it was clearly a downpour.

"Lucky we woke up when we did.....", Victoria said to herself. "I have a feeling..... we're not going to get very far today....." Quickly, she digs into her pocket, finds the cigarette. The water hinders her attempts in lighting it, so she scurries to a doorway. A calming effect extended over her body, a temporary calm, until reality came back to intrude upon her.

*

Steve and John weren't much better, although John, a more impulsive individual, did manage to flag down two cars in fifteen minutes. Otherwise, it was hopeless -- there would be little money today. Steve was about to give up, when suddenly, soaring voices flew across the air, penetrating every ear and head of whoever found themselves on the street. Steve thought in jest that the sound had made the water spill over the bucket's rim.

"What the hell's this noise?", John throws his arms up.

"It sucks, for sure!", Victoria said, returning from her smoke. "I can't even concentrate!"

Even the regular work-a-day people on the sidewalk quickened their paces slightly. Their faces tried to remain much the same; withdrawn in the mind's own trivial concerns.

"I know what's going on.", Steve said sullenly. "I heard that they were going to .....experiment.... with music like this, in areas like here. Believe they can drive us away - since we're apparently so uncultured."

"Hey, stop knocking my taste!", John jibed. "I like Jackass and Battlebots as much as the next guy!"

"It's not right...", Steve frowned, "... that I have to move to another street, so I can work!"

"Don't worry about it, guy, ", Victoria tried comforting, "What do you expect of these people -- they're just intolerant. They're like racists, you know, they don't give a shit about our rights."

"You're right --- they're the intolerant ones, but we have to do something about this."

"I feel so boxed in here. Like we're in a cage not able to get out to see the world. Strange, don't you think?", Victoria mused.

"Not really.... look at everyone here...", Steve surveyed the area. "They just walk around so calmly with their jobs and their white picket fences and their brand new cars.", he screams at everyone, expecting them to care. "....and do they realize that they really have nothing? Nothing?? They think.... that they are free. But they're not.....they're imprisioned by their fate, just like we are!"

"Geez, man.....it's no big deal. We're not behind any bars.", John remarked. "We've got the cure!", waving his bag of pot.

"What you wrote on the bathroom walls back there in the resturant....?", Steve said, wanting to confirm his suspicions.

"Excatly!", he said joyously. "Imagine if we sold some weed along with our services. We'd do so well; and everyone would relax for once."

"I know I feel relaxed right now, even with all of this music!!", Victoria said dreamily.

"You'll have to get me some of that stuff for tonight, man.", Steve says, defeated somewhat. "We drank all the beer......"

"Sounds good, man!", John replied.

"At least....you won't add to the destruction of your liver."

"Naw....", John affirmed. "I'll just lose some brain cells, but it's not as if we needed many brain cells in the first place!", laughing moronically. "Ha Ha! Brain cells! Where do those get you?"

The two men walked further and further away from the unfamiliar music; Victoria wandered about, unwilling to catch up at this point. She began pondering on whatever it was that suddenly, inexplicably, upset her. Whatever it was, it laid waste to her previous belief - that she was relaxed.

She looks up, facing the assulting raid of waterdrops, even as they dampened her hair, went into her eyes, streamed down her face. She appeared to be wounded in some strange, inner place, but she would never admit so in audible words.

"When..... when will we be home?", she murmurred.

Steve happened to look her way. She seemed very far away. Her face was different. It was a face of a timid child.

He looked to John. He was in his own self-contained world; a world of pointlessness. Drugs and alcohol were his politics.

Steve felt stranded as well. Abandoned in a kind of prison. A prison in which he could see everybody, talk to anyone, but still unable to escape. The people he associated with were behind thier own walls, serving similar sentences.

"The country....", Victoria sighs. ".... what does it smell like? I cannot recall what it smelled like. I remember... the superfical things; the farms, the cows.....", she giggles at the word. ".....lots of things. But the smell - I'd like to experience it again."

"I wouldn't remember what it was like either.", John jested. "The smog has dulled the inner workings of my nose!!"

"The two of you are complety stoned!", Steve said, flustered.

"Yea..... join us!", she drawled childishly. "There's a lot more where this came from!"

"This is the life, my friends!", John howled. "No responsibility. Just wipe shit off windows during the day and party during the night!"

"I need something to relax me.", Steve muttered to himself. "I have to get away from this."

"What was that??", Victoria bellowed, before decending into an uncontrolled, hysterical laughter.

"Oh......nothing.", he said quietly. "Just..... where are we going to stay tonight? It's bound to be a rotten evening."

"Hey! Let's crash a cheap motel!", Victoria rasped. "It's been a while since we've done that, hasn't it?"

"Yea!", John agreed. "Now we can have a real party; not one of your crazy sleepovers in the park!"

"Sure, sure, guys!", Steve returning to a more contented tone. "Just as long as we can all afford it!"

"Don't worry!", John replied. "We have it all covered!"

The three search for a properly cheap hotel, for another impulsive evening.