Yep, hard times are just an old friend for ol' Joshua. Woke up in the parking garage, rained so hard last night that the water come in and soaked my old knapsack and my felt hat to boot. Set off a car alarm getting to my feet, so's I had to make it fast for shelter. I started making my way through the cruel rain to the overhang in front of the Crystal Springs Bank of America. Pass'd by Starbucks on the way. I grumbed so hard at the yuppies inside I started coughing, couldn't stop 'til I hawked up a nice bloody ball of phlegm. I fuckin' hate communists. Felt around in my wet knapsack for me firewater. Killed the last splash in one slug. If it weren't for Joshua's old crow, I figure I'd just keel over and die. Watching all the bohemian sons a' bitches shuffle in and outta the bank made chuckle to think how these princesses and nancy boys would make out in ol' Joshua's territory, the badlands of Montana, or the crags and peaks of the Rockies. "Betcha' couldn't tag a jackrabbit at twenty paces," I muttered as some fairy pranced by. The Mary stopped and turned, "Oh I'm sorry, just a second." He reached into the pocket of his torn up blue jeans and took out a crumpled up dollar bill, smoothed it out and handed it to me. "There you go, have a nice day." I snatched the bill out of his smooth fingered hand and grumbled thanks. If it weren't for his god damned attitude maybe I'd find a place in this cold heart for appreciation, but at least I'm halfway to a fresh bottle of mad dog. Now some prissy little college girl at the library computer next to me is complaining about how I smell. Rather than start I fuss I figure I'll go take a shit behind the dumpster out back. Maybe by my next post ol' Joshua will have stumbled across some good fortune.