Daily Prompt: Rolling Stone If you could live a nomadic life, would you? Where would you go? How would you decide? What would life be like without a “home base”?
While a nomadic life, suggests an almost romantic ideal of freedom and the tossing aside of convention and constraints, in exchange for the ability to roam free. It would require skills and inate abilities, that are far beyond my ken.
I enjoy a camping getaway as much as the next guy or gal, but I know it is a temporary arrangement, that I have with me an ample supply of food and basic necessities, including, fresh water and in many cases toilet facilities and elecricity. Added to all that, I most likely have the land owner’s permission to be there, and the knowledge that at trips end I will be returning to my safe little piece of civilization.
In keeping with this prompt though, I am trying hard to imagine a nomadic existence.
perhaps something like this …..
I awaken cold and hungry in the predawn light, having been chased away from several doorways, and park benches by the local constabulary.
This dumpster, I’m hiding in, reeks not just with refuse, but with sheer desparation, then again, so do I.
The rats and cockroaches are looking more and more appetizing by the minute.
I poke my head gingerly out of my hiding place, just barely far enough to see that I’m not alone. Several others are poking around for anything even remotely edible.
The tall one with the rusty shopping cart, I call him Stretch, spins around and eyes up my abode. He’s edgy and dangerous, not someone you’d want to meet in a dark alley, or a brightly illuminated one, for that matter.
I gently ease the lid back down and crawl back beneath the smelly detrious. I lie there in stillness, praying that my hiding place will remain undiscovered.
Stretch or one of his goons is now directly above me in the bin, desparately tearing at the very bags that conceal my bedraggled form.
Just then, in the nick of time, comes a jubilent exclamation. Little Benny has found a stash of half-eaten sub sandwiches over in the deli’s dumpster. I drool enviously at the thought of such a treat but sigh more with relief than regret, as my lane mates, having lost interest in my bin, scurry eagerly away.
I disencumber myself of the garbage and detrius, climb out of my odious abode and sneak away.
My stomach will survive to grumble a while yet.
The world is my oyster! I am freed from the shackles that bind civilized man I can go wherever I want, unless the desired destination involves comfort, or safety, that is.
The decorative fountain near the City Center Park is deserted at this hour, and I wade in like a delirious child. I’m just wringing my socks out as a shiny new patrol car approaches the intersection.
I’m not a rude chap, as a rule, but I choose not to wait around and exchange niceties with the fellow.
I grab my worn-out, old shoes and make myself scarce.
He looks a little displeased, but reluctantly, decides not to pursue the issue. I’m fairly sure he’ll get over it, in time.
In the park, I pause long enough to put some fresh, discarded-newspaper insoles into my shoes. I place these on my stockingless feet and move on.
I daren’t linger here, the place will soon be crawling with groundsmen and mounted police, who don’t seem to take great pleasure in my company.
To each his own, I guess.
A squirrel scampers up a nearby maple and I’m sorely tempted to follow. I imagine him roasted on a skewer, as I absently dab at my drooling mouth with a damp sock.
I leave the walkway, and disappear into the woods. The bins on the south-side of the park tend to house a better class of garbage, but you have to get to them before the sanitation boys do.
The first three are a bust, but the fourth one houses a treasure beyond my wildest dreams. A deluxe, double, cheeseburger with only two bites out of it! Oh rapture!
As the first-rate nosh winds its way down my gleefull esophagus. I let out a contented sigh. The sun is shining, the birds are singing and……
Ahhhh this is the life!
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