JC: Harry and Sally
Chapter 1
By
Lazlo Zalezac
Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezac, 2004

The world spun out of control as she attempted to stand up. Her 
attempt was a failure and she fell back to her knees, her hand 
sliding across the puddle of vomit on the ground. Disgusted, she 
wiped her hand on her jeans as she sat back on her heels. She 
closed her eyes hoping that would make the world stop spinning, 
but it didn't help. Instead, it made her feel like she was the one that 
was spinning.

She bent over and vomited. Her stomach and back hurt with the 
effort. Her throat was already raw and her sinus cavities burned. 
Even as she voided the last of the food, she felt the cramps coming 
on again. She fell over to her side as she held her stomach unable 
to believe how bad she felt. She cried out, "Oh, God."

"Shouldn't eat food that has been thrown out from a Chinese 
restaurant." 

She looked in the direction of the voice thinking that it sounded 
like her father. She cringed as she saw two copies of the figure 
swirling in front of her. It looked like a woman wearing a sack, but 
the voice was male. Here she was, sick to her stomach, and an old 
pervert in a dress has shown up to take advantage of her. She had 
no doubts that this pervert would kill her. In a way, it fulfilled the 
prophecies that her father had made when she threatened to leave 
home. She mumbled, "I'm really fucked now."

The man approached her, taking his time as he stepped around 
pieces of trash in the alley. His walk ended with him standing 
beside her. He looked down at the young woman taking in her 
attire. Her jeans were a little dirty, but weren't worn out. The tee 
shirt was rumpled from being worn for several days. He guessed 
that she had run away from home two or three days ago. 
Considering that she had been desperate enough to eat food out of 
a trashcan, he guessed it was closer to three days. He observed, 
"You're pretty sick. Have the cramps started yet?"

Summoning her strength, she sat up and wiped the vomit from her 
face with the back of her hand. Defiant, she answered, "I'm feeling 
fine. Get away from me."

"You're going to be throwing up again any second now," replied 
the man looking down at her. She was an attractive enough young 
woman, the kind that pimps liked to put out on the streets. In the 
dark, it was impossible to tell what color her eyes or hair was. He 
added, "You really shouldn't eat food that has been thrown out 
from a Chinese restaurant."

She stared at him, unable to make out his features in the dark alley. 
Her forehead broke out in a sweat as her stomach churned. As if to 
confirm his words, she started dry heaving. As she attempted to 
void an empty stomach, she noticed that the man had backed away. 
At least that was a positive change. It gave her hope that if he was 
disgusted enough that he would leave her alone.

Rocking back on her knees, she saw that he was holding something 
out to her. The first thought that flitted through her mind was that 
he was going to stab her. It took a minute to make out that it was a 
bottle of Gatorade. Holding it so that she could see the label, he 
said, "Drink this. Take small sips."

"Oh, fuck. You're trying to drug me," cried the girl feeling 
helpless. It wasn't the first time over the past few days that she had 
felt that she was in over her head. She realized now that she had 
been stupid when she had decided to leave home. It had seemed 
like such a good idea at the time. She would run away from home 
and sign up to be a model at the agency that had promised her a 
great future as a fashion model. The first thing they wanted from 
her was money. When she said she didn't have any, they suggested 
that she model nude.

"This is Gatorade. You need to drink it in small sips," said the man 
as he knelt down next to her. Shaking his head, he said, "Dry 
heaves, huh? Your bowels will let loose soon."

Even as he spoke, her intestines boiled. It was as though the 
suggestion was enough to trigger the need. She grunted, "Get away 
from me!"

"You need to take a drink of this," he replied in a soft gentle voice 
trying to get her to trust him. It was always this way with young 
runaway girls. They were afraid of everyone and everything. 
Almost without exception, they chose to trust the wrong person. 
Pimps knew all the right things to say to them. After the pimp 
spent a few dollars on food and clothes, the girl would find herself 
walking the street because the pimp needed her to do that for him. 
After a while, it was a matter of control that often relied upon 
emotional abuse backed by physical violence.

She pushed his hand away, rejecting his offer. She said, "Get 
away."

Looking down at her, he asked, "So where are you going to go to 
the bathroom? Everything around here is closed."

She groaned as another cramp gripped her. The urge to shit hit her 
like a ton of bricks. Clenching her anus, she tried to control the 
urge. She hadn't realized when she left home that if she were sick, 
she was going to be sick in a public place. Throwing up behind a 
building was one thing, suffering from diarrhea was another.

The man saw the pained look that crossed her face and knew what 
it meant. He stood and faced away from her, spreading his robe to 
hide her from view. He said, "Go ahead. I won't look."

Grimacing from the effort to control her bowels, she spat, "Fuck 
you."

"You've got two choices. You can drop your pants or you can keep 
your pants on. Either way, your bowels are going to let loose," 
replied the man. His voice had a factual tone to it that irritated her. 
It was the same tone that her father would use when he thought she 
was doing something stupid. She hated that tone of voice and 
wanted to react negatively to it.

She knew that she was losing control over her bowels and that he 
was right. She struggled to get up. Fighting the dizziness and 
spinning world, she managed to drop her pants. Her bowels boiled 
and she squatted down as she let loose with a watery movement. 
The noises her body made embarrassed her. She had never felt so 
humiliated in her life.

She glared at the back of the man as though blaming him for her 
current predicament. Why didn't he just go and leave her in peace? 
She decided that he must be some really sick pervert if he got off 
on watching girls go to the bathroom. "I don't have any toilet 
paper."

Using his shepherd's staff, he pulled over some loose sheets of 
newspaper without looking at her. She grabbed one sheet when it 
came close enough and muttered, "Thanks."

"So what's your name?"

"Sally," she answered automatically and then mentally kicked 
herself for having told him. She tore a piece of newspaper off and 
wiped herself with it. It felt rough and she frowned as the thought 
occurred to her that she was wiping herself with a dirty piece of 
paper. Who knew what kind of germs she was going to get from it?

"It's nice to meet you, Sally. I'm Harry, but most people call me 
Happy Harry."

Another voice called out into the night, "Hey, what's going on 
there?"

The girl tried to shrink into herself. All she needed now was a 
group of men watching her suffer. What was going to happen to 
her next? She was sure that she was about to be gang raped. She 
hadn't realized that the world was filled with so many perverts. She 
wondered if she had been unlucky enough to find two of them. 

Harry looked at the figure standing in front of mouth of the 
alleyway. The outline of his gun and nightstick was clear. He 
smiled when he realized that it was Officer Hogan. He called back, 
"Got a sick girl here."

"Is that you Happy Harry?" called back the officer with an obvious 
tone of relief in his voice. He knew if Harry was around, that he 
was taking care of someone. If it required him to do something, it 
would be pretty minor. 

"Yeah. It's me, Officer Hogan."

"What's the matter?"

The girl stood to pull up her pants. Harry heard her and, over his 
shoulder, said, "Don't bother. You'll have to go again in a minute."

"Don't tell me what to do!" She looked around Harry and spotted 
the cop. At least now she had found someone that would help her. 
She wanted to call out for the cop to help protect her from this 
pervert.

"Okay." He knew that she'd be squatting again in a minute, but he 
didn't want to rub it in. Harry called back to the policeman, "I 
found a runaway girl about fifteen or sixteen who's sick as a dog."

"You going to take care of her?" asked Officer Hogan.

Sally couldn't believe what she had heard the cop say. He was 
actually going to leave her with this pervert. She was about to tell 
him off when her intestines boiled and she had to drop her pants. 
She moaned as her bowels released their load. This had to be the 
most miserable day of her life. 

Harry said, "She's pretty sick."

"Let me guess. She ate Chinese?"

"Yeah," replied Harry as he glanced down the alley at the rear of 
the Chinese restaurant. The food in the trash bins was incredibly 
foul and it was a wonder that she had been able to swallow any of 
it. She should have gone behind a pizza place to scavenge food. 

"Does she need to go to the hospital?" asked the cop as he walked 
towards Harry. He'd call an ambulance if Harry said she needed 
one.

"Nah. She just needs to get some fluids in her," answered Harry. 
He avoided the temptation to look back at the miserable girl behind 
him. He added, "She doesn't trust me enough to drink the Gatorade 
that I have for her."

"Little lady, he's one of the good guys," replied the cop knowing 
that she probably wouldn't believe him. 

"Ha!" She didn't believe that for a moment. Even the stress of 
saying that sparked another boiling in her bowels. The world spun 
again and her vision doubled. She felt the urge to vomit again. She 
wondered if she would survive this.

"He's a Druid and that makes him one of the good guys," stated 
Officer Hogan in a tone of voice that brooked no arguments. As far 
as he was concerned, there wasn't an argument that could be made. 
He had watched Harry change the lives of people that lived on the 
street.

Sally was stunned by the statement that the guy was a Druid. It had 
never occurred to her that he wasn't wearing a dress, but a Druid 
robe. Druids worked with government to change things. They 
didn't hang around in alleyways to take care of someone that was 
sick. She said, "I'll take that Gatorade now."

"Good. Drink it in small sips or you'll be throwing it all up," said 
Harry as he held the bottle behind his back. It was almost a full 
minute before she took the bottle from his hand.

Officer Hogan asked, "So how are things going at Hobo Camp?"

Hobo Camp was the name that the police had given for the 
homeless hotel that Harry had set up on some land that he had 
purchased using funds from the Fusion Foundation. Sleeping 
berths were provided in the form of a row of sewer pipes stacked 
three high. Each sewer pipe had a flat area provided by the wooden 
insert that kept the occupant off the cold cement surface. They 
were washable, an important consideration when the occupant 
were just as likely to get sick as not. With porto-potties, beach 
showers, and Fusion Well Outdoor heaters, the camp provided all 
the basic necessities associated with shelter. Harry smiled at the 
change of subjects and answered, "Things are going well. I've got a 
short list of people who will take over for me when I move on."

The news that Harry would be leaving was a surprise. Officer 
Hogan asked, "I'm sorry to hear that you are moving on. When are 
you going?"

"When I'm called to go," answered Harry. It was strange, but his 
service to the Goddess had not impacted his wanderlust in any 
fashion other than to allow him to wander further and quicker. 

The pair of men talked as Sally continued to suffer through her 
bout of food poisoning. It took an hour, but she finally recovered 
enough to be able to stand without having the world spin. Harry 
said, "You stay here with Officer Hogan while I get you a change 
of clothes."

After Harry walked away, Sally moved towards the mouth of the 
alley to get away from where she had thrown up and shit. She took 
another sip of her drink and listened to the policeman talk about 
Harry. It seemed that Harry was one of the good guys.

Harry returned to the alley to find the cop talking with the young 
woman. He took his time knowing that Officer Hogan would 
reassure the girl that she was in good hands. As he walked, he tried 
to decide what he would do with her. It was the first question that 
the cop would ask him when he returned. 

As he approached, he heard Officer Hogan tell the girl, "Harry's 
the last of the Hobos. His parents were Hobos and he was raised a 
hobo, but he's a good man. He takes care of others and passes on 
his knowledge about how to survive outside the normal bounds of 
society."

That he was the last of the hobos was a true statement in Harry's 
opinion. It had been years since he had seen a Hobo sign although 
he still left the marks to warn others of towns that were hostile to 
vagrants. He doubted that any of the current generation that called 
themselves hobos knew the signs, the songs and the stories. He had 
even met a few of them that actually owned houses. 

He approached and said, "I found something for you to wear. It's 
not great, but it is clean."

He handed her the gown and wasn't surprised by the look of 
dismay that crossed her face when she saw what it was. Young 
women were always concerned about their appearance even if they 
were sick. She complained, "I can't wear this."

"It's better than wearing your shit stained pants," replied Harry 
without any trace of compassion in his voice. She had to learn to 
take care of herself and this included taking care of her body. Life 
was tough on the streets for a pretty girl. For that matter, life was 
tough on the streets for an ugly girl. 

Shocked by his rough language, she realized that he was right. 
When the man turned his back to her and spread his robe, she 
turned away and removed her shirt and put on the dress. At least 
she had been wearing a bra. It was basically a sack with a hole for 
her head and two for her arms. Once the dress was on, she pulled 
her pants off. She was left holding her shirt and pants wondering 
what to do with them. It took her a minute to realize that Harry was 
holding a plastic bag behind his back for her to use. She grabbed 
the bag and stuffed her clothes into it. After a minute, she said, 
"You can turn around now."

Harry turned and looked at her. It was definitely an ugly outfit and 
made her look like she was pregnant. At least now he could let her 
ride in the Roach Coach with him. Officer Hogan asked, "Are you 
going to take care of her or should I take her over to juvie?"

"I'll take care of her," answered Harry. She didn't need to go into 
the Juvenile Lockup as a runaway considering her current state of 
weakness. They'd eat her up there. If she were worried about rape 
out here, she'd be shocked to have her fears become real there. 

"Good. I hate to see girls like her go in there," replied the cop. He 
turned to the young lady and said, "You do everything that Harry 
says. If you screw up, he'll call me in and I'll have to take you to 
Juvenile Hall. You wouldn't like it there."

Sally sat in the passenger seat while Harry drove the truck back to 
the homeless hotel. When they turned off the main street and 
headed to an area under a bridge, she started to get worried. This 
looked like a rough neighborhood and it was just as rough as it 
looked like it was. An industrial area on one side, a slum on the 
other side, and a river on the third bordered it. The ground was 
littered with trash. She hoped that it would look better in the light 
of day, but suspected that it didn't. 

This was the kind of place where homeless people hung out if they 
wanted to avoid getting arrested. They weren't welcome in the 
suburbs or the nice parts of town. Occasional work was available 
in the industrial area and the slum. One day of hard work could 
earn enough to last a week or more. Railroad tracks ran through the 
central part of the industrial area and they weren't far from the 
highway. In fact, a bridge ran overhead to cross the river.

The headlights illuminated the camp. Rows of sewer pipes about 
three feet in diameter lined one side of the camp. A row of 
outhouses and shower stalls lined the other side. At one end was a 
small metal shack. Harry pulled the truck up to the metal shack and 
turned off the headlights. Turning to Sally, he said, "We're here."

She looked around and asked, "Where are we?"

"We're home," replied Harry as he got out of the truck. He walked 
over to the metal shack and opened the door. Entering, he flipped 
on a light switch and had to take a minute for his eyes to get used 
to the sudden light. The stack of blankets had gone down by a few, 
but that was expected. One of the plastic trashcans was gone. He 
figured that meant one of the guests must have been drunk and Tin 
Tom had required them to use the trashcan.

He picked up a blanket, a bar of soap, a towel, and one of the 
plastic trashcans. Deciding there was nothing else that she needed, 
he left the shack turning the light off behind him. It took a minute 
for his eyes to get used to the dark. He handed the stack of items to 
Sally as he said, "These are for you to use. If you get sick, use the 
plastic trashcan."

Taking the supplies, she was shocked at the scratchy feel of the 
blanket and wondered how she would sleep using it. She 
complained, "It's all scratchy."

"It's wool. Strong, durable, and warm, it will last for years," 
answered Harry. He pointed to the showers and said, "Take a 
shower and wash your clothes. Set the clothes out to dry at the rear 
of your bed."

Sally did as she had been instructed. When he had told her to take 
a shower, she had expected hot water and was disappointed to 
learn that it was cold tap water. It was hard to stay under the spray 
of cold water as she washed herself and then her clothes. The 
shower didn't leave much for privacy. The door covered enough of 
her body that no one would be able to see much of her, but it was 
unnerving to know that a little door held only by a spring was all 
that stood between her naked body and any eyes that might be 
interested. 

It was with some relief that she was able to put the ugly sack dress 
on again. She stepped out of the shower and looked around at her 
surroundings. The night, filled with the sounds of men snoring, 
was not silent. She felt lost and alone, jumping when she heard 
Harry say, "Follow me and I'll take you to a bed."

She followed him dutifully as he walked past sections of sewer 
pipes that contained people within them. Looking into one as she 
passed by it, she could see the head of a man lying on his back 
with his mouth open in a snore. After walking past a few empty 
ones, Harry stopped and pointed. "You can sleep here."

She looked in the section of sewer pipe. A narrow wooden plank 
covered the bottom. She threw her damp clothes into the pipe and 
crawled into it. There wasn't much room and she kept hitting her 
head as she tried to set her wet clothes at the end of it. Once she 
had everything arranged, she lay down on the wooden plank and 
covered herself with the blanket.

Sleep was long in coming. Twice she had to leave the pipe and go 
to the bathroom. Using real facilities was an improvement over the 
alleyway, even though the porto-potties smelled of urine and 
chemicals. She missed a proper bathroom.

Lying in the sewer pipe, she wondered how she had ended up 
there. She had wanted to go into modeling and her father was 
standing in her way. He had told her that it was a scam and she had 
learned that he was right. All they wanted from her was money or 
her naked body. So maybe he was right about this one, but she 
knew that she could be a model. After all, everyone told her that 
she was beautiful.

Her parents just didn't understand her and with their arbitrary rules, 
were doing everything in their power to make her life miserable. 
Who cared if she cleaned her room today or tomorrow? So long as 
it got cleaned occasionally, it didn't matter. It was unfair that they 
had so much control over her life.

Her thoughts turned to the past few days. She had expected things 
to go better than they had gone. She had spent the first night in the 
stairwell of a parking garage. It had been horrible, but she had 
gone back there the second night. She had gotten about three hours 
of sleep before a security guard chased her out. The rest of the 
night had been spent wandering aimlessly around the streets. When 
she had seen someone walking the streets, she had hidden herself 
from view and waited terrified that they would try to rape her. 

What little money she had was gone by the middle of the second 
day. That evening, she was hungry, but couldn't buy any food. The 
entire next day was spent looking for something to eat, but she had 
not been lucky. She had tried to get food from people in the park 
by looking pathetic, but they ignored her. By that night, she had 
been desperate to eat something. 

With no money she had decided to get something out of the 
trashcans behind a restaurant. That had led to the most humiliating 
experience of her life. She fell asleep thinking about the hours 
spent in the alley. Her dreams were haunted with images of her 
being sick in front of her schoolmates. 

Morning came early in the homeless hotel. Sally woke to the 
sounds of people moving around, coughing, and talking. She 
looked out and saw an old man with a short grizzled beard looking 
back at her. He moved his jaw as if he were chewing, but when he 
opened his mouth there weren't any teeth. At the shocked look on 
her face, he threw his head and laughed. Slapping his knee, he 
continued on to the porto-potty. 

Confused by his behavior, Sally didn't know what to think of the 
old man. Reaching down to her feet, she touched the jeans finding 
that they were still damp. Her stomach growled and she made her 
way out of the sewer pipe in the search of food. Looking around, 
she found the metal shack and headed towards it hoping to find 
Harry. 

The camp was even uglier during the day. The row of cement 
sewer pipe made it look like a construction site. The porto-pottys 
were clean, but it was impossible to escape their smell. The 
neighboring area was filled with trash and she wondered where it 
came from. Only a minute went by before she saw a paper bag fly 
down from the bridge, thrown out the window of a moving car. 
The scariest thing was the homeless people milling around in 
layers of worn clothes. Bad teeth, unshaven faces, and uncombed 
hair made them look dangerously undisciplined.

At the metal shack, a trio of men sat around on cinder blocks 
without saying much. She looked at the youngest of the three men, 
taking in his thin frame, military fatigue jacket, the rough beard, 
weathered hands, and scars on his face. Mentally, she decided he 
was a rapist. He looked up at her and frowned as he muttered, "Jail 
bait."

The oldest man looked up at her. His belly was huge and hung over 
his belt. Even though it was a warm day, Sally could tell that he 
had five layers of clothes on. After he spat on the ground, he said, 
"Pull up a cinderblock."

Sally looked around and saw a cinderblock next to the third man. 
Sitting down on it, she asked, "Where do you get food around 
here?"

The three men laughed at the question. The guy next to her struck 
his thigh and answered, "Just call room service, Princess."

The oldest man joked, "I bet you would like some steak and eggs."

The guy next to her rubbed his crotch and said, "I've got a tube 
steak for you to eat."

Sally didn't understand what was so funny about her question. The 
man next to her was just disgusting. She crossed her arms and 
looked away in disdain thinking that someone should have taught 
them manners when they were young. The youngest man looked 
around and said, "Lay off her. Harry'll be back soon. He'll feed her 
and she'll have to work for the food just like us."

"Shit, Tin Tom. Just havin' a lil fun wit her," replied the man 
sitting next to Sally. 

The man had used the nickname by which Tom was known on the 
streets. Some man had called him a tin soldier and the name stuck. 
At first, he had hated the nickname but there wasn't anything he 
could do about it. Tom replied, "She's just a kid. Leave her alone."

The oldest man sniffed as he rubbed a hand through what little 
remained of his hair. Turning to look at Sally, he said, "I guess it 
falls upon me to perform the introductions. Folks call me Fat Man, 
the gentleman next to you is George, and the soldier here is Tin 
Tom."

"Nice to meet you, Fat Man, George, and Tin Tom. I'm Sally." She 
felt weird about calling someone Fat Man, but that was the name 
he wanted to go by. Now that the introductions were over, she 
didn't know what else to say. 

Tin Tom sat there for a minute examining her and then asked, "So 
was your daddy or step-daddy screwing you or something?"

The question struck Sally like a slap across her face. She sat up and 
answered, "Most certainly not. My Daddy isn't a pervert."

"Then what in the hell are you doing out here when you could be at 
home?" asked George.

It was a good question and one that she should have asked herself 
before. Rather than answer, she asked, "What are you doing here?"

George answered, "I was sick and went to one of those Fusion 
clinics. They gave me some pills and told me to get out of the 
weather until I recovered. I came here to the Hobo Hotel. I took the 
last pill last night and will leave after breakfast."

Fat Man winked at her and said, "The reason I'm here is that it is 
between where I was and where I'm going."

"So where you are going?" asked Sally.

"I'll know when I get there," answered Fat Man with a chuckle. 
When he got to where he was going, he'd drop dead because that 
was the only way he'd stop moving. 

It didn't make sense to Sally and she was about to ask him to 
explain himself when Tin Tom said, "Harry's coming."

George looked around and saw no sign of Harry. He asked, "How 
in the hell does he know if Harry's coming?"

"From the chair that he's sitting in, he can see Harry drive past 
those two buildings over there," answered Fat Man. 

Tin Tom said, "Princess, I'd better warn you about the folks around 
here. Only two reasons people are homeless nowadays. They either 
want to be homeless or they're crazy."

Nodding his head in agreement, Fat Man said, "Not too many 
people want to be homeless."

Sally understood what the old man was saying. It was a not so 
subtle way of letting her know that most of the guys around here 
were crazy. She looked around trying to see who was crazy and 
who wasn't. Tin Tom said, "You can't tell by looking, Princess."

The Roach Coach turned down the street to where they were 
waiting. Other people emerged from the sewer pipes and started 
drifting over to the metal shack. Sally watched them, trying to tell 
which ones were crazy and which weren't. Tin Tom was right, you 
couldn't tell by looking. They all looked creepy to her. 

Harry pulled up to the metal shack and climbed out the door of the 
truck. Looking around the camp with a smile plastered on his face, 
he went around to the side of the truck and swung the panel 
upwards. When it locked into place, he stepped back while 
everyone formed a line. 

Tin Tom stood and started to head over to the truck. He stopped 
and looked back at Sally realizing that she wasn't going to get in 
line. For a moment, he wondered if she expected Harry to bring the 
food over to her. Sighing, he asked, "Princess, do you expect him 
to deliver your breakfast to you?"

The question went to the heart of what she had been thinking, but 
his continued use of the term princess bothered her. Sally stood 
and followed Tin Tom to the end of the line. George and Fat Man 
got into line behind her. The line moved fast as Harry handed out 
cups of coffee and donuts. When one of the people stepped up to 
the truck, Harry said, "Jack, you know the rules. Bed is free, but 
you have to work for your meal."

"Shit, I'll work for it after I eat."

Shaking his head, Harry had heard that line so many times in the 
past that he knew not to fall for it. He picked up a plastic trash bag 
and handed over to Jack as he said, "Last time you told me that, 
you disappeared after you ate. You have to work first, eat later. Fill 
the bag with trash from over there."

Sally waited in line, her stomach making a continuous rumble, but 
when she reached the front, Harry said, "Bed is free, but you have 
to earn your meals."

The news that he expected her to work surprised her, particularly 
since he knew just how hungry she was. She was so hungry that 
she couldn't see straight, but accepted the plastic bag from Harry 
without complaint. She had heard a number of murmurs, 
"Princess." Never had she heard such a word convey so much 
disdain.

Without expressing any of the hundred reasons why she felt that 
she shouldn't have to work, she headed over to the field next to the 
camp and started picking up the trash. Her hunger worked on her 
mind and she worked mechanically. The field was full of trash, 
either thrown from the bridge above or blown into the field from 
the industrial park. It didn't take long for her to fill the plastic bag. 

Moving woodenly, she returned to the Roach Coach. The line of 
people waiting for food was gone, but Harry waited inside the 
truck for anyone that might be hungry. He looked at the bag of 
trash and said, "Princess, I see that you've picked up some trash. 
Put the bag in the dumpster over there and wash your hands."

Without arguing, she did as instructed. When she returned, he 
handed her a quarter of a donut and a half-cup of coffee. Looking 
at it, she complained, "Only a quarter?"

"For now. Put too much food in that empty stomach and you'll lose 
it all again," replied Harry. He added, "Eat slowly."

After his predications of the night before, she knew better than to 
argue. Nibbling on the donut, she was surprised when her stomach 
started to rebel after eating half of what she had been given. She 
drank a sip of the coffee, the hot beverage spreading warmth 
through her insides.

Harry said, "Since you weren't abused by your parents, you've got 
only a few choices. You can live a life like the people here. In ten 
years, you'll look twice your age and people will look down on you 
as a bag lady. You can become a whore and start fucking your way 
through life. Course, it won't be long before you get hooked on 
drugs. You could make it on your own, but that's highly unlikely. 
No money, no high school diploma, and no work experience. 
Nope, it seems to me like you have two choices, bag lady or 
whore."

"Aren't you going to send me home?" asked Sally. She had listened 
to his assessment knowing full well that he was correct, but not 
wanting to believe it. 

"Why would I do that?" asked Harry with a smile. He looked her 
directly in the eye as he added, "You could leave again."

She stared at him wondering what he expected of her. 
