Friday, October 7, 2016

Trespassers Shall Be Shot

Another morning, another humiliating encounter with tattooed law enforcement. Fucking hell, every day I have to get frisked and searched and feed the same lines to the police. Unbelievable. And lately I am getting sloppy and staying in the Walmart parking lot after 8am. A decent hobo would leave at 6 or 6:30 and be gone before the day manager gets to work. But I got sloppy because I was drinking boxed wine in the parking lot last night, actually drinking enough boxed red wine to get drunk and ended up talking to a truck tow driver who was towing a long flatbed that had run into a wall and bent the rim so badly that it could not be replaced without cutting it off, and no welder could come out so he was going to drag the flatbed 15 miles, but the axle had come loose so the wheels of the front axle had to be chained up or else they would slide back and rub the back wheels and cause even more havoc. And then I took a full shower in the fucking Walmart parking lot, shampooing my hair, actually cutting my hair a little, drinking red wine, singing Western Swing songs. Insane and dangerous, disrespecful, waving to shoppers like we were close neighbors. I figure, fuck it, this country has gone to shit and if a guy can't wash his ass crack in a Walmart parking lot in full view of everyone in San Antonio Texas then what good is anything? I do not care. I am going to get hassled and charged with trespassing no matter what I do so why should I hide, why should I respect anything in this god forsaken hell? Respect is earned and whatafuckinburger deserves no respect. Police patrol like terminator drones, I piss in a jug and a guy in wheelchair with a colostomy bag has to empty the bag into a plot of grass. Is there any difference? Dogs shit and piss by the millions. So I gotta piss and shit in bags and shower next to a trash can in a parking lot. This is life. I don't like over priced bullshit hotels with false smiles and plastic wrapping on the toilet. I'm more Texan than a Texan. It's Oggy Hunting Season every single day and the police have me targeted for extermination. So I gotta sleep in a shade tree hammock and shit in a bag and get drunk and shower in a parking lot. So what? Covered wagon immigrants had it hard too. Texas was populated by folks from Tennessee who were invited by recent Mexican president to tame northern Mexico in exchange for land. It was technically Mexico and folks from Tenn. came here to be Mexican and kill Comanche. Well, they did the job so well that they decided they didn't want to be Mexican and they didn't want to be American either. They wanted a Texas Republic. And not long after they became a Lone Star republic they joined the Confederacy. And then they joined the Union because the money was better. SO DO NOT SHOVE YOUR FUCKING COP NOSE IN MY FACE AND CONDESCEND TO HUMILIATE ME LIKE I AM SOME KIND OF FUCKING SCUMBAG! This land was populated exactly by non-conformist vagabonds like myself and assholes later came and milked the fat tit of oil production to provide your paycheck and your nice tiger tattoos on your big bicep ego inflation. You want to define this land as Texan? Ok. It's just words, like pancakes only belong as breakfast food. Those are the words of assholes. It's dirt and grass and cow shit and you can call it whatever you want but when I have to wash my ass crack then I will do that wherever I please because that is what people do.

So I slept late, not hungover, but not feeling 100% right either, and the Walmart manager wakes me up banging on the van and I'm naked and get up. 
"You gotta get off the property!"
"Fine, fine. Whatever. I was a customer, you know." And I sort of laugh because I bought boxed wine with my last $3.22 in cash, drank it in the parking lot while I washed my hair wearing a peyote necklace, got drunk, and then danced around the parking lot with no shirt... but fuck him. I was still technically a customer.
"I don't care. This isn't a hotel. I got police coming and tow trucks."
"Wow. Y'all sound serious. I guess I'll move along." I figure he is bluffing, of course at that very second four police cruisers and tow trucks show up like they think they are Magnum P.I. with guns blazing to capture Al Capone. Oh, fucking Jesus, Joseph and Ezekiel. The same routine. Out of the van! Hands behind your back! Any drugs? Any weapons? What are you doing here? Why don't you have a Texas license? If you don't have an address then where do you work? You think this is funny? Are you drunk right now? Disdain and humiliation are thick on the cop's lips. Blah fucking blah. Again and again, hundreds and hundreds of police encounters.

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Man in the Van by Oggy Bleacher is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.