Faggypants knocked on the window this morning. He had to escape from his mother. He said she refuses to let him open windows no matter what the temperature is because she says dirt gets in. Apparently she has all kinds of nutty rules, but she loves having him home with her. He says every time he looks at the want adds she gets nervous. She doesn't want him getting a job and leaving her. He seems to be leaning toward going to truck driving school. I suggested becoming a taxi driver; he's a people person, he's a decent driver and he knows the city. He thinks it's too dangerous. I told him driving a sixteen wheeler all night is dangerous too.  

  Street Jimmy swept before I arrived this morning. All the cigarettes were in a neat pile.  He was completely stoned by nine A.M.. 

  Street Jimmy was in great spirits yesterday. It seems after Ruben left the bar the previous evening he fell down in his tiny room and couldn't get up, so he called Timmy at the bar and explained his predicament. Timmy waited at least four hours before he managed to gather a group (it takes at least four strong men to lift the four hundred pound Mexican when he's drunk) to go over to Rubens .  Finally the assembled group , which included Street Jimmy , armed with a key that Ruben keeps at the bar for just such emergency's , went on the rescue mission. When they arrived, and now I'm relying on Jimmy's account, Ruben was still on the floor. His cat Maria was "shilverin'" on top of her cat ladder, and Ruben's pants were down to his knees. From this Jimmy deduced that Ruben was obviously trying to bang his cat, fell down, and couldn't get back up.  Jimmy was by now laughing  to the point he was having a hard time talking. He added that Ruben had a small dick, "the fat seems to be sucking it into his stomach." Little does he know that Ruben just had major surgery to rescue his dick from his numerous rolls of fat.  I guess this will have to go down as the unveiling of Rubens new dick.

  Ruben's account differed. He said his cat , Maria, was frightened because she'd never seen a black person before. His Puerto Rican neighbor tried to lift him but couldn't, but when the neighbor said he'd call the fire department, Ruben said no. He felt eventually he'd regain his strength and manage to pull himself up at some point by himself.  I'm sure we will hear more about this later.

  The boys got drunk and talked Street Jimmy into putting a couple of plastic buckets on top of the dumpster and hanging a plastic clock high on the brick wall above where he presently resides. Grace scolded the boys for having Jimmy risk life and limb for their drunken pleasure. The boys were very pleased with themselves when I arrived on the scene. The call the clock Little Neb, get it? Ben spelled backwards. Jimmy seems to have recovered from the tongue lashing he received from Mike. Whether he learned anything remains to be seen.

  Marky Mark is still being dicked around with at his real job. I told him to grit his teeth and take it. It's a jungle out there. I hate big corporations. 

  Street Jimmy is upset. He had a long face when he showed up this morning. He said Marie told Mike that he took an outsiders side in a recent incident, and so Mike screamed at him (Jimmy) last night. Jimmy would rather take a physical beating than a verbal beating. I told him in the future always take the bars side  and he'll never get in trouble. He can't believe Marie did him like she did. I told him it's her nature to repeat stuff, and he should always talk to me directly. My blood pressure has been running high again. I wish everyone would  chill. Fat chance. 

  Faggypants called. He said his mom is having her hair blown out. She's making him crazy and he wants me to find something for him to do because he's broke. He called back again and said that he had an idea for a new painting. Limbaugh in hell getting it up the ass from Hitler. I told him that Limbaugh would love getting it up the ass from Hitler. Faggypants giggled and then hung up.

  No Street Jimmy yet. He won't be happy when I tell him his arch enemy, Nettie, is back on the street scamming. I told Nettie this morning "hope, not dope", "hugs, not drugs", and she said she wasn't using drugs anymore. She's clever and well spoken, and she'd gladly cut your liver out for a quarter.

  Street Jimmy went from goat to hero in less than twelve hours. He was sent to Walgreens to buy Ruben cigarettes , but didn't return for five hours. After a brief interrogation ( he doesn't lie very well)  he admitted that he bought a rock and then went out and panhandled for the cigarette money. I was considering some type of punishment, but then about an hour ago he knocked on the back door of the bar and said Grace's car was getting ticketed. When we confronted the surly meter man, he said Grace didn't have the right street sticker. When I pointed out she had a temporary sticker on the upper right hand corner of the windshield, the East Indian meter man became even more disagreeable. He said it should have been closer to her city sticker. I refrained from telling him what a ignorant jag off he was when he voided the ticket. 

  Street Jimmy is despondent. He just showed up direct from Moody Bible to discover that the garbage truck had already arrived and picked up all of his belongings. I suggested that perhaps he should have anticipated this given the fact they come every Tuesday morning.  I reminded him that he can always hide his stuff under our dumpster on Monday nights. He was particularly distraught over losing all of his "drawers", and other personal stuff.  We found a few things in lost and found to help him out for the time being. He is very excited about Grace's documentary movie about him. He wants a quick preview. I told him to talk to Grace. 

  Jimmy was pissed this morning. Because of the rats and the rain he had to sleep behind Moody Bible again last night. When he got to his "crib" he discovered somebody had ransacked his belongings. His rake was missing, along with some of his clothes. He says if he catches the N word that took his stuff  he's going to fuck him up. I told him I saw the old white guy they call Santa Clause around his garbage cans looking for cigarette butts, but I'm pretty sure he didn't take anything. Also, Jimmy wants me to keep Larry (another crack head) from coming into the bar. He says Larry said I gave him (Larry) five bucks. Of course I denied it. However, this angered me  because against my better judgement I gave Larry five bucks a couple of days ago. So Larry told Jimmy just to taunt Jimmy. That's the last time I ever do anything for Larry. 

  Ronny brought the rat poison but we need a pro to dispense it into the hole. Plus Jimmy filled up the hole and now we need to wait for the rat to open it up again. 

  Grace and Basil are close to completing their documentary about Street Jimmy. The buzz  on the street is that it's very good.

  Faggypants called up this morning from his mothers . He was already completely drunk. This can't be going over very well with mom. He wanted to take the train into the city  and come to the bar . When I told him that Patrick was working for a couple of hours he decided not to make the journey. He doesn't like Patrick. 

  Street Jimmy has been in good spirits of late. He's adjusted to sleeping at night behind Moody Bible and then napping during the day behind the garbage cans where he keeps his valuables . He's hope full that Ronny will bring the rat poison he promised so Jimmy can take care of the rats that have been bothering him . This morning he swept all the cigarette buts from the street in front of the bar before I got there. This showed great foresight because once the cars are parked there it tough to get the buts. Speaking of buts, he found a couple of good ones (he's sometime particular about the brands of the buts he smokes. ) He said someone walked by and gave him a bag of donuts. Life is good, at least so far this morning.

  Ruben seems to be recovering from his post operative funk. He says his new dick has gills. He calls it his "sting ray." Still no word on the unveiling. He spent the weekend in rural Indiana with the counselor. He said he had a nice, relaxing time

   

  

  The saga of Street Jimmy's kango hat continues. Coach and Ruben tried to sabotage our hat prank, but I think I turned the tables on them. Jimmy now seems convinced now that Johnny Lira and I got the hat back by force, and that the naysayers were just too afraid to help, hence the lie.  Jimmy's been hanging around for the last week or two with some down in the heels looking young white guy. Jimmy swears the guy in not a crack head, and that he lets Jimmy use his shower. I find this relationship very odd. Ronny H. brought Jimmy some rat poison to take care of the vicious rat that's been bothering him. Jimmy seemed very pleased after he put the poison down the hole. He seemed so confident about the efficacy of the poison that he immediately went behind the garbage cans and took a nap.

  Danniella want's to know how to join my blog. Marky Mark said he'd show him. I think a shrink would be a great addition .

  There's been a lot of drama the last couple of days concerning the mysterious disappearance of Street Jimmy's Kango hat, and then the equally mysterious return of said hat (cap). A little background: a couple of years ago I gave Jimmy the hat from lost and found. I had no idea about it's value, at least to Jimmy, but he was ecstatic. I don't think I've seen him without it from that day forward.

  When he saw me walking down the street the other day he ran up to me . He was almost in tears and asked me not to get m ad at him but he thought he'd lost his Kango. The last place he remembered taking it off was in front of Tipre Hardware. He begged me to help him locate it. I said I'd do my best. When I arrived at the bar they said he'd been frantically searching for it the past five hours. 

  Just before he left the bar Coach discovered the hat on the stool next to him. I decided that we'd tell Jimmy that we had to take the hat away from some street thugs. When Jimmy next appeared (an hour later) I presented him with his hat. His smile was as electric as Vegas at midnight. I told him I saw a kid walk by with it on. A tall lanky black kid with no shirt. When I confronted the kid, who was with two other street punks, I told the kid I wanted Jimmy's hat back. When the kid wasn't forthcoming I snatched it from his head. When the three kids attacked me I hollered for reinforcements , but Johnny Lira, the boxer, was the only one who heeded my call. I gave Jimmy a graphic description of how Johnny and I pulverized the street punks. Jimmy was ecstatic. I had to go over it all a couple of more times for him.

He especially like the description of how Johnny landed a liver shot so hard the kid pissed his pants.

   So the next day, even though everyone knew the story, big fat Ruben and Coach had to tell Jimmy that the hat was really found on the bar stool. When I saw Jimmy he told me, "they says that the hat was on the stool."

  "That's because they're chicken shits and  didn't want us beating up the punks to get your Kango. You don't believe them, do you? Hell, how many times did you look on the bar stools for your hat?"

  Jimmy nodded. "No way the hat was on the bar stool."