Chapter 18 Part Three (1)

"What kind of tricks are you playing next?" Brethren, this is what I said to myself the next morning.I was standing outside the gate of the white building built next to the National Prison. I was wearing the platties I wore when I was arrested in the gray morning light two years ago. Items, and a few leaves, were kindly provided by the smelly authorities, so that I could embark on a journey of a new life. Yesterday, the day was very tiring. After the performance, there was a video interview, which was to be broadcast on the TV news, and there was also a photo shoot under the flash, click, click, click, it was more like a demonstration of me getting down in front of super violence. Embarrassing footage, and then, exhausted, I collapsed on the bed and was woken up.I think it's mainly to let me know that I'm free, pack up and go home, they don't want to see you again, they're gone forever, brothers.That's how I get out.Early in the morning, I only had these money notes in my left pocket. I flipped the coins to zero and thought to myself:

"What kind of tricks are you playing next?" Somewhere to get some breakfast, I thought, having nothing but a cup of tea in the morning, and everyone eager to kick me out and go to freedom.The prison is located in a dark area of ​​the city, but there are small restaurants for migrant workers everywhere. I stepped into one shortly after. After snorting and drinking tea, devouring unsightly sausages and sliced ​​​​bread, stuffing them hungrily, yelling for more orders.The waiter was a stinky chick with big boobs, and a few diners tried to grab her, mouthing whoo-hoo-hoo, while she giggled; I almost gagged seeing that, bro.Still very polite, I ordered some toast, jam and tea in a gentlemanly tone, and then sat down in a dark corner to eat and drink.

While eating, a little man came in selling morning newspapers, a thug and a criminal, wearing glasses with thick wire rims, and the color of platties looked like raisin pudding that had been spoiled for a long time.I bought a newspaper to find out what was going on in the world so I could rush back to normal life.The newspapers seemed to be run by the government, the front page was full of campaign news, everyone was trying to make sure the current government was re-elected, as if the general election was two or three weeks away.As for what the government has done in the past year, there is a lot of bragging, such as increased exports, foreign policy achievements, social service improvements and other nonsense.However, what the government brags the most is that they believe that in the past six months, night walkers who seek safety have been on the streets much safer, because the police have improved their treatment and their methods have become tougher, dealing with hooligans, perverts, thieves and the like The scum has done so well.

This news quite aroused my interest, the second page has a blurry photo of a very familiar person, it turned out to be me and me.Inside I was gloomy and a little scared, which was actually the constant popping of the flash bulb.The text under the photo said this was the first graduate of the new National Institute for the Rehabilitation of Criminals, cured of the criminal instinct in just two weeks, now a law-abiding citizen, etc.Then I saw an article bragging about Ludovigo's technology, how smart the government was, and so on, and a picture of someone I had known before, which was the Minister of the Interior, which I called a poor minister.He seemed to be boasting, dreaming of a wonderful time without crime, without fear of cowardly attacks by punks, perverts, thieves, and so on.With a sigh, I threw the newspaper on the floor, covering the tea stains and phlegm spilled on it by the beasts who used the restaurant.

"What kind of tricks are you playing next?" The next trick, brothers, is to go home and surprise mom and dad with their only son and successor back in the arms of the family.Then I can lie back in my little den and listen to some lovely music while I contemplate how I'm going to spend my life.The day before the release officer gave me a big list of careers that I could try, and he also called various people to introduce me, but I didn’t plan to find a job right away, yes, I need to take a break first, amidst the sound of music , lying on the bed and thinking quietly. So, take a bus to downtown station, and then take a bus to Kingsley Avenue, the apartment building 18A is not far away.Believe me, brethren, my heart is indeed beating with excitement.Everything was quiet, it was still winter morning, I entered the foyer of the apartment, there was no one there, only the naked teenagers with the mural "Dignity of Labor" were waiting.To my surprise, the murals have been cleaned up, the solemn laborers no longer spit balloons, write dirty words, and there are no dirty-thinking pencil teenagers adding unsightly organs to the naked body, which also surprises me Yes, the elevator is working.As soon as I pressed the button, the elevator hummed down, and I was surprised again when I entered, the elevator cage was cleaned cleanly.

When I reached the tenth floor, I saw that the doors No. 11 and 8 were still the same; when I took out the key from my pocket, my hands were trembling, but when I inserted the key and turned it, I was very firm; The horrified eyes are staring at me, it’s P and M having breakfast, but there’s another one I’ve never seen in my life, a big and thick guy, wearing a shirt and suspenders, drinking milk tea and eating egg toast very casually, it’s this The stranger speaks first instead: "Who are you, friend? Where did you get the key? Get out before I beat you in the face. Go outside and knock on the door. Tell me what you're doing, and hurry."

My mom and dad sat there dumbfounded, obviously they hadn't read the paper; now I remember it wasn't coming until after Dad left for work.But at this moment, my mother said: "Ah, you escaped from prison, you escaped. What should we do? We are going to call the police, ouch, you are a bad boy, you are embarrassing our family like this." Believe it or not, or pat My ass, she burst into tears.So I tried my best to explain that they could call the State Prison to find out, while the stranger sat frowning, looking like he was about to smash my face with a big furry fist.I say: "How about answering a few words, brother? What are you doing here, how long are you staying? I don't like the way you spoke just now, be careful. Come on, talk." He looked like a working man, ugly, thirty or forty years old.He sat facing me with his mouth wide open, without saying a word.My dad said:

"It's all so confusing, son, you should have told us you were coming back. We thought it was at least five or six years before they would let you go." He said very sadly. "It's not that we Not happy to see you, to find you free." "Who is this?" I asked. "Why isn't he talking? What's going on here?" "His name is Joe," said Mom. "Here now. He's a lodger. My God, my God." "You," said Joe. "I've heard all about you, boy. Know what you've done. It breaks the hearts of poor parents. Come back? Make them miserable again, won't you? Unless you beat me to death first Forget it, because they treat me like their own son, not a tenant." If the panic in my body hadn't started to wake up the nausea, I would have laughed, this guy looks about the same age as P and M, and he stretched out Sonly hands to shelter my weeping mother, brethren.

"Oh," I said, almost collapsing in tears. "I see. Hey, I'll give you five full minutes to get all your stinky stuff out of my place." I walked towards the room, but this guy was slow to react and didn't stop me.I opened the door, and my heart seemed to split open and drop onto the carpet: it wasn't like my room at all, brethren.My flags are off the wall, and this guy put up a picture of a boxer, and there's a whole bunch of guys sitting smugly with their hands folded, with a silver silver shield in front of them.Then I saw that other things were missing, the stereo and the record cabinet were gone, and the locked treasure chest with bottles, drugs, and two shiny clean syringes. "Some dirty work done here," I yelled. "What have you done with my personal belongings, you dreadful bastard?" It was directed at Joe, but my dad replied:

"Those things were confiscated by the police. There are new regulations, and the victims must be compensated." I became very sick uncontrollably, and Gulliver was in so much pain that his mouth was dry, and he grabbed the milk bottle on the table and drank it, so Joe said, "Dirty pigs eat." I said: "But she died. The woman died." "It's the cats, son," Dad said sadly. "Before the lawyer reads and executes the will, there is no one to look after the cats. You have to ask someone to feed them. So the police sold your things, clothes, etc., to pay for the feeding. Fees. By law, son. You've never been too big!"

I had to sit down, and Joe said, "Ask for permission before you sit down, rude little pig." I snapped back, "Shut your big dirty asshole," and then felt sick.So, trying to be reasonable for my body's sake, I laughed and said, "Hey, this is my room, of course. It's also my home. P and M, what do you have to say?" But they looked very unhappy, and mother was trembling, her face was lined with tears, and father said: "Those have to be considered carefully, son. We can't kick Joe out like that, can't we? I mean, Joe works here, signed a contract, two years, we have arrangements, Don't you, Joe? I mean, considering you've been in prison for so long, and the rooms are empty." He was a little shy, and you could tell by his face.So I smiled, nodded and said: "I know. You're used to the quiet life, the extra money. That's the way it is. Your son is nothing but mischievous." At this point, believe it or not, brethren, or kiss my ass, I cried and felt sorry for myself.Dad said: "Well, look, Joe's paid next month's rent. I mean, whatever we do, we can't ask Joe out, Joe?" said Joe: "It's the two of you who should be considered the most. You are like parents to me. Is it right to hand you over to this little monster who doesn't look like a son at all? Is it fair? Still crying, this is a conspiracy .Let him go, find a place to live, and teach him a lesson in misbehavior. Such a villain doesn't deserve natural good parents." "Okay," I said, standing up, tears welling in my eyes. "I know the status quo. No one wants me, no one loves me. I've suffered. I've suffered. People want me to continue to suffer. I know." "You've made other people suffer," said Joe. "You do have to suffer. I heard what you did, sitting at the family table at night, and it sounded horrific. Many of the stories were disgusting." "It would be nice if I could go back to prison," I said, "the old state prison. I'm gone. You'll never see me again. I'll do my own thing, thank you. Let your consciences go Suffer it." Dad said: "Don't do this, son," the mother just yelled, her face twisted so ugly.Jo put her arms around her again, patted her, and desperately said yes, yes, yes.I go out trembling, let them die of guilt, brethren.