Brenton Hayes-Way

The Hotel Homeless

tomorrow I’ll be homeless. Technically, I suppose I’m homeless right now, but it’s easier on the eyes if I’m tucked away in a motel somewhere not peddling myself on the street making those without the worry of shelter or transportation feel uncomfortable. I agree, trust me I agree more than you know. Being outside on a curb, begging people for change, and hearing “get a job” for the ump-teen millionth time as if the piece-of-work touting it at the top of his lungs just came up with it right then and there. Well, Sir, allow me to be the first to say: well said! It stung appropriately, your bootstrap story is protected. However, I feel the need to interject, I never asked you for your thoughts on my circumstances, actually I never approached you in the sense that if you taught me to fish I could stain my Armani suit the same way you have done. Your change Mr. Sir without the unsolicited bad advise would go much further to getting me out of immediate need which, by the way, still exists immediately even If I get that job you proposed I need so badly, and find me out of your sight so you may save up your altruism for your once-a-year donation to whichever trendy charity exists with the highest advertising budget and makes you like less like the “get a job” type.