This kid is leaving the city and heading out on the open road. Some of us are more fortunate than others, and when fate deals you a hand that is light on material resources, it is often best to take off into the unknown rather than stay in a situation that you well know is not viable.
It takes him the better part of the day to make it to the city limits. The peacefulness of the countryside quiets his nerves, and he begins feel his hunger and fatigue. As he attunes his senses to his new surroundings he thinks he hears voices in the distance.
The voices are coming from this hobo jungle, and the kid is unsure if he should approach this group of yeggs, underworld beggars, punks, and bindle stiffs. The tone, he decides, is mellow, and the aroma of food on the fire is a sure lure.
This kid is no fool. He quickly determines which of these jungle buzzards is on top and approaches with just the right combination of poise and courtesy. He explains his situation and asks permission to take it easy in the company of these fellow transients.
They accept the kid easily into the fold, and he is warmed by their liquor, their company, and their fire.
The talk goes on into the night with each bum regaling the others with tales of nefarious adventures. Dawn comes slowly on, speech becomes slurred, and the yarns begin to unravel...
As a new day begins the camp is deep in an intemperate slumber. A well oiled snooze is bliss to the road weary nomad, and that is no lie.
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