One Way Ticket
The beggar dashed away from the cart with is heart pumping and feet feeling asthough two shoes of lead had been branded around them. His breath was short and hishead filled with contempt for his own being. He ran non-stop to his friends waiting twoblocks away in an abandoned ally. He ran not for himself but for his friends, as they haddone time after time for him. The bread that he had stole was not a meal for one, but ameal for three. The only meal that most would see for two days, and that was in a goodweek. If too much bread was stolen the owner of the cart might become suspicious, andthen a new source of food would need to be established. "I hope you got the bread I am starved." One pauper whispered form the corner. "Yea, of course I got it, you think I'm gonna let you starve, Jesus. You allremember the pact right. One don't eat, we all don't eat." "Come on stop talking and split that bread" The third pauper wined as he talked. After splitting the bread the three settled down in the corner to go to sleep. Asthey drifted to sleep they thought about their close friendship with each other and how anycould manage without the others. As each said goodnight in a repeated triangle of voice
"Well, if ya must know Charlie, I'm checkin my lottery ticket. Never would he have a true friend, or peaceful moment. This "bookmark turned out to be something quite different indeed. sthe rain that had, unbenounced to them, been expected that night began its steady anddepressing splattering of tiny wet drops. The front page read as follows: "Beggar Bags the Bucks". "Jack, what in the hell you think your doin, what'd you need to read the news for? The drowsy pair of men pulled themselves up from their slumber with a mild chuckle atthe absurdity of their friend. As the two men read the article Charlie found himself hating his former friend, butJake knew what the other had not. But the fact remained, that if it had beencast aside so easily it must be one of the million other false hope creators scattered aboutthe streets of every city in the United States. From riches to rags and from simple to devious, never again would heknow a person past their wealth. "Laugh all ya want, but if I get rich I aintgiven you two a cent. The paper was delivered to each room and each took it up simply out of sheerboredom. Once he had found a worn copy of A Tale Of Two Cities in a dumpstaroutside a broken down apartment building on the corner of 21st street.
Common topics in this essay:
,
Charlie I'm,
Tale Cities,
Bags Bucks,
lottery ticket,
piece paper,
don't eat,
meal meal,
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