A Vagrant Story Read Free

finding a place to spend it was the tricky part.
    They ordered soup and bread, treating it like rations in war time. Rum managed to sponge a litre bottle of cider out of Alex. It showed no match for the man’s battle hardened gut, he drained it by half and the man gained not a swagger to his words. The drink came weak but free, he had no position to complain.
    Henry wasn’t big on bread. Often he would mention how when he was younger his mother fed it to him as though they had nothing else. In those days he’d turn it down in a snap. Those days were gone, and so too his options.
    Amidst devouring his own slice, Rum caught wind of Henry’s hesitance. “Bread too good for you? Better eat up. We’re outta here soon, might just leave you behind.”
    “But Alex isn’t finished either.”
    “Course he ain’t finished, stupid weirdo never eats his fill, just sits there playing with it.”
    “I eat my fill, I just don’t have your…” he eyed the soup stains on Rum’s coat, “appetite.”
    “You’re eating like a duck lately. Snap it up and let’s be through. You know the kind of filth that come out around this time.”
    “Us?” Alex replied.
    “Funny.”
    “I’ll eat what I can as fast as I can. Can’t help it … queasy stomach.”
    “Come on Alex, Rum’s got a point,” Sierra said, “the bars are about to close so you know what that means. Nine out of ten some little drunken brat’s gonna start something.”
    “Little brat? Look who’s talking.” Rum laughed, straight up guzzling down another swag of cider.
    “Of course, to you everyone under twenty is a kid. Whatever, at least I don’t act like those idiots.”
    “You got a point, you’re worse. And I don’t think we need worry, last time some little punks tried start something I knocked their little heads in. Word spreads so I think they’ll get the message.”
    “You knocked their heads in … with a bat, if I recall.”
    “Well yeah, normally I wouldn’t need a weapon but there were about six of them. I didn’t see you three doing much neither … especially Henry.”
    Still nibbling on a loaf, Henry hoisted his head. “Well, it’s not like I was avoiding it. The fight was over before I noticed. I was … busy.”
    “Busy hiding!”
    “Leave it alone, Rum,” Alex said, with a cough at the end.
    “Quit mixing up the story y’old fool, as I recall I was the one who dived in on them. They had you down and I saved your ass,” Sierra said.
    “I’m not old. I’m only in my forties for Christ’s sake. And of course you’d get in there, you’re a girl. You don’t seriously think they’d put up a real fight against you. Makes sense they’d go easier on you.”
    Sierra rolled her eyes. “I doubt the drunken mob saw things from your perspective.” She bit into her bread.” Lucky bastards being able to go out on the piss like that, all that money on a bit of fun. Wish we could get cash like that. Soup and bread has its good points but with their weekend change I’d buy everything on the menu – just for one night.”
    Rum eyed her somewhat plump exterior. “You’d think you have already. From the look of you I’d say you’ve got a secret hoard somewhere.”
    “And some brand new clothes,” she continued, ignoring Rum. “If I could afford those then I probably wouldn’t be too bothered with all this.”
        “What's the point? A week and they’d be wrecked again,” Rum jested. “Besides, we’re tramps, even with cash the shops would throw us out the moment our stench caught upwind.”
    Alex raised hand to chin. “Yet we’re lucky.” The comment attracted everyone’s gaze. “In a poorer country we’d be fairly well off, being a tramp over here is better than being a village chief in Somalia.”
    A protruding silence pierced the air. If confusion had a sound it would be the blinking eyes around this table, staring forth awaiting logic behind the comment. It came upon Rum to beg a reason.
    “Yeah that’s