ApeTheDog
11 Dec 2004, 08:15 AM
This is a pretty old story, from before the reality tv fad started. I submitted it as an entry in a writing competition a person I vaguely knew was holding.
I sent this in and was very surprised when it won. The competition wasn't very good though, as second prize went to an essay about toilets. No kidding.
The Miracle by Manu.
He looked horrible. He felt horrible too. The two were not related. He could hardly help the way he looked. It's hard to find a mirror when you're homeless. And really, who cared anyway? He was just a parasite. The less human he looked, the less people would pity him. He definately did not need their sympathy.
He could, and would, however, help the way he felt. He made enough money to buy a bottle of wine today. He was carrying it in the inner pockets of his vest. He felt it's soothing presence against his body with every step he took. It helped. His bridge was not far away from here. Just a few more streets, and then he would be slighty less homeless.
Then, he lost his train of thoughts again. It happened to him quite often. He forgot everything, even what he was doing. He'd get where he wanted to get anyway. He always did. His life was a long, automatic struggle for survival. And the less he thought, the less he felt horrible. He did not want to feel anymore. If a radio is broken, and the only thing you hear on it is annoying static, you turn it off. In the same manner, he had turned off his feelings. It was better this way. He did not want anything, except for that first burning sip of wine maybe. But other than that, nothing else really mattered. Nothing.
He got home and drank most of the thoughts he had left in his head, which fortunately included the really dark ones, out of his system. After he'd done this, he decided, after carefully considering all his options, to go for another round of staring idly at his surroundings. This was his life. And it wasn't too bad. It sure didn't feel bad right now. Pity he couldn't get drunk anymore, though.
Then an angel visited him. And she was beautiful. She was just standing there, five feet from where he was sleeping. The golden light, seemingly shining out of her entiry body, woke him up from his dreamless sleep. He did not know she was an angel at that time, but he still didn't want to harm her. She had to leave him alone, though, so he could sleep some more. Golden light or not. He didn't wanna be awake right now. Then, she slowly said: "I am an angel". And well, that sure was interesting enough. That she said that.
Of course, he was sceptic at first. I mean, who wouldn't be?
He thought for a while. "And you've come to tell me I'm pregnant of the new messiah, right?", he then said. She kept smiling. Nobody had smiled at him in a very long time. After establishing that she wouldn't respond right away, he continued:
"Listen, lady. I may be homeless, but that doesn't mean I'm stupid. Go harrass a child or a goddamn priest as far as I care, but get your damn self away from under this bridge. I want to sleep." She said: "I am here to help you, John. Your life will get better. Go back to sleep, and tomorrow, you'll see". So he did.
Crazy luminescent bitches. What had the world come to...
The next day, he woke up in a real bed. His beard had dissapeared, his hair had been combed, and he was looking at the back of a red haired woman's head. A real bed! Can you believe it? He decided to take a risk, and gently touched the woman's shoulder. She moaned, and asked, in what he guessed was not her normal voice: "what?". "Am I your husband?", he asked. "Well of course you are. Do you think you can just stop being married to me?". "Well, no, of course not. The thing is... You see". Just as he was about to shut up, she said: "Not now, honey. I need to sleep some more before the kids get up".
He had children! He had a life!
He got up, made coffee (he had almost forgotten how to do that), and set the table. He was guessing they had two kids, so he set four plates. Hey, if this really was his dream come true, that's how many he'd have. Oh boy... He couldn't wait to see what his children looked like, and what kind of job he had. And he vowed to go to church every sunday! This, this... This was a miracle!
Feet. Stumbling, down the stairs. My children! I really really have children!
They had red hairs, just like their mother. They didn't look anything like what he imagined they would look like. They were far more beautifull. And he really did have two of them. He was really a daddy!
After the best breakfast of his life, the bell rang. He knew he probably shouldn't have, but his enthusiasm got the better of him. Standing there on the porch of his brand new house, in the dim morning light, were a black man and a person holding a camera.
Twenty minutes later, he was back under his bridge.
"Maybe we shouldn't use this. I don't think the viewers will think it's very funny.", the red-haired woman said. "Trust me, they will. As long as we cut out the sad parts, they'll adore it.", the black man answered. Then, seeing the look on her face, he continued: "Well, we did give him more money than he'd have on the streets in at least three months. If he uses that wisely, he can get himself out from under that bridge. It's not our fault he has to live there. Besides, where exactly does it say homeless people can't be made victims to a practical joke?"
That night, he bought four bottles of wine. And a handgun.
I sent this in and was very surprised when it won. The competition wasn't very good though, as second prize went to an essay about toilets. No kidding.
The Miracle by Manu.
He looked horrible. He felt horrible too. The two were not related. He could hardly help the way he looked. It's hard to find a mirror when you're homeless. And really, who cared anyway? He was just a parasite. The less human he looked, the less people would pity him. He definately did not need their sympathy.
He could, and would, however, help the way he felt. He made enough money to buy a bottle of wine today. He was carrying it in the inner pockets of his vest. He felt it's soothing presence against his body with every step he took. It helped. His bridge was not far away from here. Just a few more streets, and then he would be slighty less homeless.
Then, he lost his train of thoughts again. It happened to him quite often. He forgot everything, even what he was doing. He'd get where he wanted to get anyway. He always did. His life was a long, automatic struggle for survival. And the less he thought, the less he felt horrible. He did not want to feel anymore. If a radio is broken, and the only thing you hear on it is annoying static, you turn it off. In the same manner, he had turned off his feelings. It was better this way. He did not want anything, except for that first burning sip of wine maybe. But other than that, nothing else really mattered. Nothing.
He got home and drank most of the thoughts he had left in his head, which fortunately included the really dark ones, out of his system. After he'd done this, he decided, after carefully considering all his options, to go for another round of staring idly at his surroundings. This was his life. And it wasn't too bad. It sure didn't feel bad right now. Pity he couldn't get drunk anymore, though.
Then an angel visited him. And she was beautiful. She was just standing there, five feet from where he was sleeping. The golden light, seemingly shining out of her entiry body, woke him up from his dreamless sleep. He did not know she was an angel at that time, but he still didn't want to harm her. She had to leave him alone, though, so he could sleep some more. Golden light or not. He didn't wanna be awake right now. Then, she slowly said: "I am an angel". And well, that sure was interesting enough. That she said that.
Of course, he was sceptic at first. I mean, who wouldn't be?
He thought for a while. "And you've come to tell me I'm pregnant of the new messiah, right?", he then said. She kept smiling. Nobody had smiled at him in a very long time. After establishing that she wouldn't respond right away, he continued:
"Listen, lady. I may be homeless, but that doesn't mean I'm stupid. Go harrass a child or a goddamn priest as far as I care, but get your damn self away from under this bridge. I want to sleep." She said: "I am here to help you, John. Your life will get better. Go back to sleep, and tomorrow, you'll see". So he did.
Crazy luminescent bitches. What had the world come to...
The next day, he woke up in a real bed. His beard had dissapeared, his hair had been combed, and he was looking at the back of a red haired woman's head. A real bed! Can you believe it? He decided to take a risk, and gently touched the woman's shoulder. She moaned, and asked, in what he guessed was not her normal voice: "what?". "Am I your husband?", he asked. "Well of course you are. Do you think you can just stop being married to me?". "Well, no, of course not. The thing is... You see". Just as he was about to shut up, she said: "Not now, honey. I need to sleep some more before the kids get up".
He had children! He had a life!
He got up, made coffee (he had almost forgotten how to do that), and set the table. He was guessing they had two kids, so he set four plates. Hey, if this really was his dream come true, that's how many he'd have. Oh boy... He couldn't wait to see what his children looked like, and what kind of job he had. And he vowed to go to church every sunday! This, this... This was a miracle!
Feet. Stumbling, down the stairs. My children! I really really have children!
They had red hairs, just like their mother. They didn't look anything like what he imagined they would look like. They were far more beautifull. And he really did have two of them. He was really a daddy!
After the best breakfast of his life, the bell rang. He knew he probably shouldn't have, but his enthusiasm got the better of him. Standing there on the porch of his brand new house, in the dim morning light, were a black man and a person holding a camera.
Twenty minutes later, he was back under his bridge.
"Maybe we shouldn't use this. I don't think the viewers will think it's very funny.", the red-haired woman said. "Trust me, they will. As long as we cut out the sad parts, they'll adore it.", the black man answered. Then, seeing the look on her face, he continued: "Well, we did give him more money than he'd have on the streets in at least three months. If he uses that wisely, he can get himself out from under that bridge. It's not our fault he has to live there. Besides, where exactly does it say homeless people can't be made victims to a practical joke?"
That night, he bought four bottles of wine. And a handgun.