months, but frankly he hated his job. He never made commission because no one had the patience for the slow talking mutant or the stuttering geek that he sounded like.
The state told him that he didn’t have to work. He could just collect his SSA so he tried that for a while. He met Donna, an older woman that worked as a waitress. She had two kids and tried to move into his one bedroom apartment but when it messed with his SSA he kicked them out. It wasn’t a loss, her kids didn’t listen to him and she stopped having sex with him as soon as she was in his apartment, plus she was just plain mean.
Troy was no longer a virgin but he still hadn’t formed any meaningful relationships with females. It seemed that most of the women he met just wanted to move into his place when it was cold and they disappeared from sight when the weather was nice. And of course, he was always mindful and distrustful of street women because of the virus. Stable women with jobs were few and far between. Once he had an ‘episode’ they flew the coop. Eventually he did lose his housing because too many people were coming in and out. But by that time he was convinced that the entire system was just a trap; tease you with benefits subsidies and make you jump through endless hoops knowing that they will only threaten to snatch everything from you on a whim. Without state benefits then don’t get sick, be forced to find a job that offers insurance and a place to live that won’t wipe out your entire pay.
Yeah, it can be done, by someone who didn’t care enough about material things. But that person wouldn’t care about having an apartment in the first place. And so here he was.
He packed up the few belongings that he wanted to keep and he hit the road. Over the next few years he travelled to Kentucky, and Tennessee, and did odd jobs, worked construction, stood in a field picking tobacco with immigrants, until a trucker led him back to Ohio, where he was when he interrupted the beating of a lone black woman by three street thugs.
CHAPTER 6
Troy blinked his eyes several times and then focused on Juicy, and the topic of the police.
"Not all of them are bad. But th-th-THEIR jobs are to keep the streets clean. I get that. Sometimes when they start to recognize you they take it as a sign to do o-o-o..." Troy was sweating with his struggles. "...other things to you."
"Like what?" She asked feeling that heat of anger boiling up from the pit of her stomach.
"Juicy, never mind. I avoid the cops when I have to." His lip began to twitch and then his neck.
Troy closed his eyes. His face growing pale as the tic intensified and his face began to jerk.
"Are you okay?"
"You g-g-got anything for a headache?"
Juicy jumped up. "Yeah! Hold on." She hurried to the bathroom returning with a huge bottle of ibuprofen. She put it on the table in front of Troy then hurried to the fridge for a bottled water.
With squinted red rimmed eyes Troy struggled with the cap until Juicy took it from his hands and opened it for him. Troy squinted at the bottled water.
"Juicy I need some tap water please. That's going to be too cold." His voice sounded low and pained.
She was really worried now. She grabbed a glass and ran some tap water in it then put it on the table. He was shaking out eight pills into his palms.
Damn, she'd never seen anyone take eight all at once! She almost stopped him before she remembered that Troy knew Troy better than she did.
He swallowed down the pills expertly then with elbows on the table he buried his fists into his hair.
Juicy pulled her chair close to his. Tentatively she put her hand on his shoulder. He flinched at her touch.
"No..." He whimpered softly, "…hurts."
"When I touch you it hurts?"
He grimaced and opened his tightly squeezed eyes. "I'm going to be sick..." He stumbled to his feet and hurried to the bathroom. The towel was still on the chair. Juicy looked at that for a moment then
The state told him that he didn’t have to work. He could just collect his SSA so he tried that for a while. He met Donna, an older woman that worked as a waitress. She had two kids and tried to move into his one bedroom apartment but when it messed with his SSA he kicked them out. It wasn’t a loss, her kids didn’t listen to him and she stopped having sex with him as soon as she was in his apartment, plus she was just plain mean.
Troy was no longer a virgin but he still hadn’t formed any meaningful relationships with females. It seemed that most of the women he met just wanted to move into his place when it was cold and they disappeared from sight when the weather was nice. And of course, he was always mindful and distrustful of street women because of the virus. Stable women with jobs were few and far between. Once he had an ‘episode’ they flew the coop. Eventually he did lose his housing because too many people were coming in and out. But by that time he was convinced that the entire system was just a trap; tease you with benefits subsidies and make you jump through endless hoops knowing that they will only threaten to snatch everything from you on a whim. Without state benefits then don’t get sick, be forced to find a job that offers insurance and a place to live that won’t wipe out your entire pay.
Yeah, it can be done, by someone who didn’t care enough about material things. But that person wouldn’t care about having an apartment in the first place. And so here he was.
He packed up the few belongings that he wanted to keep and he hit the road. Over the next few years he travelled to Kentucky, and Tennessee, and did odd jobs, worked construction, stood in a field picking tobacco with immigrants, until a trucker led him back to Ohio, where he was when he interrupted the beating of a lone black woman by three street thugs.
CHAPTER 6
Troy blinked his eyes several times and then focused on Juicy, and the topic of the police.
"Not all of them are bad. But th-th-THEIR jobs are to keep the streets clean. I get that. Sometimes when they start to recognize you they take it as a sign to do o-o-o..." Troy was sweating with his struggles. "...other things to you."
"Like what?" She asked feeling that heat of anger boiling up from the pit of her stomach.
"Juicy, never mind. I avoid the cops when I have to." His lip began to twitch and then his neck.
Troy closed his eyes. His face growing pale as the tic intensified and his face began to jerk.
"Are you okay?"
"You g-g-got anything for a headache?"
Juicy jumped up. "Yeah! Hold on." She hurried to the bathroom returning with a huge bottle of ibuprofen. She put it on the table in front of Troy then hurried to the fridge for a bottled water.
With squinted red rimmed eyes Troy struggled with the cap until Juicy took it from his hands and opened it for him. Troy squinted at the bottled water.
"Juicy I need some tap water please. That's going to be too cold." His voice sounded low and pained.
She was really worried now. She grabbed a glass and ran some tap water in it then put it on the table. He was shaking out eight pills into his palms.
Damn, she'd never seen anyone take eight all at once! She almost stopped him before she remembered that Troy knew Troy better than she did.
He swallowed down the pills expertly then with elbows on the table he buried his fists into his hair.
Juicy pulled her chair close to his. Tentatively she put her hand on his shoulder. He flinched at her touch.
"No..." He whimpered softly, "…hurts."
"When I touch you it hurts?"
He grimaced and opened his tightly squeezed eyes. "I'm going to be sick..." He stumbled to his feet and hurried to the bathroom. The towel was still on the chair. Juicy looked at that for a moment then
Similar Books
