31.

I trot on. I stomp like a grumpy child who didn't get what they wanted. But the effort to stay angry doesn't seem to be worth it anymore and I shift back into a dull sense of angst. I clear my throat and say "Hello" aloud. I say it again 5 more times. Practicing some sort of composure. I sing "Poncho and Lefty" as I walk on. I sing the Townes Van Zandt version, not the Merle Haggard and Willie Nelson version. I finish the song and sing it again. I've made it 14 blocks and I decide to belt it out again. I'm getting bored. Bored, bored, bored. I guess after I find a place to live, maybe I should look into work or school. In addition to the bit of cash I got left, I have a few hundred left in my savings account. Frozen left overs from my student loan. But at the rate I'm falling I'm gonna need to make some money. Especially when I keep throwing money around. Throwing it in peoples faces just to prove I'm not a bum. Not the wisest economic decision. Bored. This whole time it's block after block of residential neighborhoods. It's boring scenery and I don't really know if I wanna live in this part of town. Far too far from bars and corner stores for me. I reach the second listing and it looks abandoned. It's a dying building decaying. There's a jalopy of a station wagon parked in the drive way and it can't be more than 30 years old though it looks about a hundred. I expect to see horses tied to front of it. The house is another two story house, though its about in the opposite of condition from the last place. Fucking shambles. More my style and price range for sure. There's no bell so I pound on the door a few times. I feel a little less nervous about this place than the last. I'd even say I fit right in. A zit faced shaggy haired teen opens the door. He stares blankly at me. I almost shout out a "Boo!" just to try and shake him into life. I smell soap. "I'm here about the Craig's list posting." He keeps on staring blankly, never blinking. I kind of want to strangle him. Every second he stares is a minute ticking by on his own personal doomsday clock. Tick, tock. The pendulum's been mostly swinging towards hate all day. I'm not in charge of these things, it just happens. Tick, tock, tick, tock. If I wasn't so annoyed with him I'd see a little of myself in him. "Hey kid, the Craig's list posting?", I spit as I snap my fingers. More silence and blank stares. Maybe he doesn't speak English. I wish I had a lazer gun. He's literally minutes to midnight when he finally blinks. He turns his head and like a sudden volcano erupting he belts out, "GRANDPA! Someone's at the door! Or SOMETHING!" Finally. He mopes off to listen to shitty Nu Metal and whine about how hard his thirteen year old life is. I'm a pretty big hypocrite aren't I? I'm not even that old and I'm so damn bitter. An old prune of a man appears at the door and smiles at me. I wanna put some sunglasses on him and turn him into one of those California raisins.
"What can I do for you young lad?"
"I'm here about the Craig's List post."
"Ahhhh. Well, let me ask you a question first? Can you be discreet?"