06-30-2007, 12:00 AM
I lived a life with basically no parents around. My father had gone away, my mother worked all the time, leaving me to my own devices. These days I supposed the child protective services would be called and I would be whisked away to a foster home.
I used to walk down to the railroad tracks where the hobos hung out and listen to their stories. Often they would be half-drunk and would carry on about their lost lives and family.
One old one was named Cracker and he had no teeth and would spit out food when he talked. He loved to tell scary stories about hobos getting killed by the trains. I asked him one time why the train's engineers didn't stop when they saw a hobo on a track. Cracker would get all serious and answer "Because they like killing us". "Hobos are nothing to them and they brag about how many of us they have ran over".
One day I was walking the track and found a sleeping hobo laying across the track rails. I grabbed his leg and tried to pull him off the track so he wouldn't get hurt. He awoke and was surprized to see me pulling on his leg. "What ya doin' boy"? He asked. I told him he would get run over. He laughed and said he had laid that way on purpose so he would know when the train was coming and then to leave him alone. Which I did.
Sometimes I guess when we have nothing left we wait for death on its track.
I used to walk down to the railroad tracks where the hobos hung out and listen to their stories. Often they would be half-drunk and would carry on about their lost lives and family.
One old one was named Cracker and he had no teeth and would spit out food when he talked. He loved to tell scary stories about hobos getting killed by the trains. I asked him one time why the train's engineers didn't stop when they saw a hobo on a track. Cracker would get all serious and answer "Because they like killing us". "Hobos are nothing to them and they brag about how many of us they have ran over".
One day I was walking the track and found a sleeping hobo laying across the track rails. I grabbed his leg and tried to pull him off the track so he wouldn't get hurt. He awoke and was surprized to see me pulling on his leg. "What ya doin' boy"? He asked. I told him he would get run over. He laughed and said he had laid that way on purpose so he would know when the train was coming and then to leave him alone. Which I did.
Sometimes I guess when we have nothing left we wait for death on its track.