In my previous article I stated that the homeless would not fuck with me again.   Right now I am sad to report that those words were a tad bit premature.   Now I know how Bush felt when he addressed the US a few months into the Iraq War with a giant ‘Mission Accomplished’ banner in the background; that, by the way, he totally knew nothing about.  You see, I failed to listen to the sage advice of many famous tacticians from the past.   That advice was, simply, don’t pick fights with people who have nothing to lose because there is nothing to be gained from fighting them and no way to make them stop.   The homeless, apparently, couldn’t care less if you stink up their little hobo carts and they don’t seem to mind too badly if you throw them out.    They’ll just find another cart to steal and fill with random junk and garbage, and bring it back.   Frustrating, kind of like a mongrel dog you just want to go away, so you pitch a stick and the ugly thing just keeps bringing it back no matter how many times you throw it into traffic.

The battlements of the mighty Hobocity.

So, it seems that I have underestimated my homeless foes, and that they have decided to strike back by forming a grand hobo armada in the back of the building.  As I write this, there are probably somewhere in the neighborhood of 15-20 homeless people living in the lot behind they building.   They have gloriously erected a testament to the times which I lovingly refer to as ‘Hobo City’  or as one of my co-workers called it ‘Bum Fest 09.’  Hobocity is a wondrous place, where the denizens can enjoy all the perks of their downtown location, stinky old blankets adorn the fences of the lot to mark their turf, they have plentiful stolen lawn chairs on which to sit all day and contemplate things like cannibalism and optimal change harvesting locations, a nice building to use as a bathroom, and they proudly send hobo war parties out to collect change and food as well as cash registers.   You heard me.   Cash registers.   This homeless army has got ridiculous.   I thought it was bad when I first wrote about it but holy shit it’s turning into a regular sitcom.  So get this, a couple of days ago several of the hobos from hobocity wandered to a business that is literally 50 feet from the lot they are staying in, shoved their way through lines of waiting customers, and fucking grabbed the cash register and walked out like they owned the fucking thing! 

Even better, the police, as far as I am aware, couldn’t figure out if they were the ones responsible or not.  Way to go OPD, you’re a testament to police forces everywhere.   Their chief gets her gun and such stolen out of her car because she left the damn thing unlocked, in the last two weeks two cop cars have been stolen and taken on joy rides, and to top it all off you just got outwitted by a bunch of fucking homeless people.   Who’d have thought the crime of the century would be a bunch of smelly people walking in and taking cash registers then walking 50 feet away, taking the money out, and throwing the registers in a nearby dumpster?  It’s not your month guys.   May I suggest a less incompetent candidate for police chief to maybe clean things up around here?

Orlando residents: Vote Wiggum for chief, 2009.

There are two things to be embarrassed about if you are robbed by a hobo.   Number one being that you were robbed, which implies that it was taken from you by force or persuasion, by a malnourished, possibly insane, probably unarmed, smelly bum.   Number two being that you didn’t kick the hobos ass.    My god, if five hobos walked on into where I worked and tried to make off with the cash registers they’d fucking regret it.   After I found out about the homeless guys back there stealing the cash registers next door I went out back and punted a few carts they had placed in front of our dumpster while they watched, then basically yelled at them to stay the hell away from our cash registers.  The looks on their faces were, interesting, you’d expect them to yell back and maybe spew crazy nonsense… not these homeless.   Their gazes were like an iron bar, unbending, unflinching.   They didn’t even react, they just stared at me as if I was the social outcast.  It’s mildly disconcerting to be stared at by homeless people as if they pity you. I didn’t like that, not one bit.

Hobo forces stand guard.

Hobo games involve playing cards, crying, and regreting your life.

Assessing the situation, I pondered my next move.   I could stink out the homeless, throw a bunch of stink bombs into the field till they leave.   I could drive by and paintball them at night to drive them out.   Both of those scenarios had good chances, however, of getting me arrested.    Avoiding prison is one of my life goals, by the way.   With the stink bombs since the field is near some houses the police would probably be called.   With the paint guns there’s a good chance with my luck, I’d hit the crazy pregnant black homeless chick directly in the belly, causing a miscarriage;  simultaneously doing the world a favor and ensuring that thanks to Florida’s backwards legal system, I’d probably be tried for first degree murder.  So what options were left to me?  We already tried trespassing them but since we don’t own the lot, and the company merely rents the building, getting them removed is impossible.   But… if we got a hold of the owner of the property, I’m sure the fat Persian fuck that owns that lot would gladly throw them out.

A little side story about the guy who owns that lot – we’ve butted heads before.   One time he cussed me out for parking my car on the homeless lot because I needed to get it out of the way so that someone could get to the forklift.   I got so pissed off at him that I plotted my revenge right there and then.   He used to come by every week or so to make sure his signs were up and adjust them.   So I used the shovel after I had scooped up a rather delicious pile of hoboshit, and scraped it against the sign, so that the back side of it would have a nice deposit of shit for him to discover when he came along to adjust it next.   Thankfully I was present when he discovered my little landmine… buahaha.  He came into the building and used our bathroom yelling about his shit covered hands, this was like 10 minutes after I bleached the whole bathroom as part of my awesome cleaning technique that totally eliminates scrubbing and well, cleaning.   The fumes were so bad that while he was washing his hands I could hear him coughing and wheezing.   Oh how I laughed.

Homeless KryptoniteAnyway, the homeless have since stolen the guy’s signs and therefore, removed any contact information.  So we’ve had to resort to getting a hold of the zoning info for Orange county and after many days of searching we got a hold of his info, so now it’s only a matter of time till those damn homeless are tossed out, much like how their families or landlords threw them out before.   Then, on that day I will laugh.  They might even be forced to stay at the shelter and *gasp* may even have to go to the workforce place that is right next door to us and … get jobs, admit they are homeless, and get that dumb pregnant chick some fucking help.   The horror!



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