- Joined
- Aug 29, 2005
- Messages
- 305
- Reaction score
- 27
Hannah - Jay and His Treasure
Jay wakes up to the roaring sound of cleaning trucks hugging the streets with it’s brushes, and washes his face in the pint-sized, white bucket that lay in the corner of his humble abode. The concrete floor and the glassless window always allow the sound of polluted air to stop by, but mostly unwelcomed.
He heads out for his daily chores of collecting cans and bottles with his old buggy to make a life for himself.
He’s a Vietnam vet, he told me so.
He even showed me his battle-scar that lays clean across his chest. “Me and my platoon was walking down this hill that was booby-trapped; I’ll never forget that day in my life. There was a machete hooked up to a tree and cut me right across my chest. You see? Right here.”
But Jay doesn’t have medals of courage from his Vietnam days. He’s not even a hero. He’s homeless and addicted to crack cocaine…
[that’s all I could get out in five minutes
]
Jay wakes up to the roaring sound of cleaning trucks hugging the streets with it’s brushes, and washes his face in the pint-sized, white bucket that lay in the corner of his humble abode. The concrete floor and the glassless window always allow the sound of polluted air to stop by, but mostly unwelcomed.
He heads out for his daily chores of collecting cans and bottles with his old buggy to make a life for himself.
He’s a Vietnam vet, he told me so.
He even showed me his battle-scar that lays clean across his chest. “Me and my platoon was walking down this hill that was booby-trapped; I’ll never forget that day in my life. There was a machete hooked up to a tree and cut me right across my chest. You see? Right here.”
But Jay doesn’t have medals of courage from his Vietnam days. He’s not even a hero. He’s homeless and addicted to crack cocaine…
[that’s all I could get out in five minutes
]