Baker

Baker sniffed the air around him, his keen senses discerning several
odors all at once. Locally there were several people milling about; a
man was wearing cheap cologne, a woman smelled of fresh coffee, and a
small boy brushed by him that must have eaten a few cookies. The crowds
of people hardly noticed Baker as they walked by with their itinerant
lives.
Baker sat next to a newspaper kiosk and watched the traffic flow back
and forth. In the street a white or perhaps yellow car, he could never
tell the difference, rear-ended another car. Yelling and screaming in
unintelligible banter the drivers confronted each other in the street.
The man at fault in the rear car must have just been out of the bath
because he wore a towel on his head that wrapped around the top
covering his hair. Tan colored skin that shone with sweat mottled by
dark hair. Baker caught the smell of strange spices and cigarettes
coming from him. The other man wore a smooth, dark suit that emanated
power and prestige.
The two men continued yelling at each other until Baker could not even
hear himself think. He yelled at them from his position on the sidewalk
several times but only received looks of disregard, the look that most
people throw the homeless. People on the street stopped and looked at
Baker but he ignored them. Baker stood up and continued at the two men
until they returned themselves to their respective cars and resumed
milling about their lives. "What a bunch of idiots," he thought to
himself. Being so worked up about something as trivial as a big metal
box with wheels.
Continuing down the street Baker saw his old friend Charlie coming his
way attached to a wonderfully smelling blonde woman. Charlie was always
the one to get Baker out of trouble. In fact, just a year ago, they got
pinched doing a job and Charlie took the fall in order for Baker to
escape. I guess Charlie was out though, and with an amazing escort no
less. Baker tried to stay unnoticed, feeling a bit embarrassed about
their previous history together, but Charlie called out to him.
"Baker, Baker is that you? It is you how are you doing old pal?"
Charlie spoke through the crowd.
Baker weaved through the mob over to where Charlie stood and exchanged
to usual greetings. "I'm doing well, it's been a long time hasn't it,"
Baker tried to sound like he was on top of the world. There was no way
he could tell Charlie that he was living on the streets still. Charlie
had cleaned up while locked up and made something of him; meanwhile
Baker was still running the same old game.
"Oh it's been at least a year I think, but it feels like seven," said
Charlie. "So what have you been up to while I was in the joint? Still
on the job?"
"No, I've just been laying kind of low. I'll do a restaurant here and
there, you know, just what I need to do to survive," Baker looked at
Charlie's companion as she smiled back at him. "So what have you been
up to my boy? How long have you been out?"
"Well I was just about to give up hope when I met this doll," Charlie
gazed up at his blonde partner. "We met a couple of weeks ago and she
sprung me. Can you believe it? So whatever happened to that dame you
was running around with?"
"Oh it didn't work out so I split," Baker could tell that Charlie was
trying to rub his nose in his new situation. "I've been living on my
own for a while and I tell you what, I couldn't be happier," Baker was
lying but he couldn't let Charlie have the upper hand.
"That's great," Charlie felt a tug. "Oh well I've got to go. It was
good seeing you, take care of yourself," Charlie called as he
disappeared through the crowd.
"Likewise," Baker said to the crowd, he knew that Charlie heard him
though. "You lucky bastard," he added when Charlie was out of
earshot.
It was true though, Baker loved his itinerant lifestyle. Moving from
place to place, living by his wits, and doing what he wanted whenever
he wanted. Yeah, this was the life. Baker said this in his head but he
knew that he was lying to himself. He longed for when he could wake up
in the same place night after night, next to the same warm body, and
always have a guaranteed meal. Oh well he thought, no use in pining
over things that were out of his control.
Baker continued down the street, and into an alley. The noise of the
street was getting to him and he wanted to sit in peace for a moment.
The smell of old food and sewage flooded this particular alley. Baker
could also smell the passing of many others here, so many leaving their
mark on these dark streets. Baker wondered how many like himself had
called this alley home, and how many more would do so in the future.
What a hopeless existence he thought. Hunger washed these thoughts away
so he decided to make his way to the butcher to score something to
eat.
Stoney Brook Butcher Shop over on 5th Street was always a good place
to score freebies. Baker had discovered this spot a long time ago and
managed to keep it a secret from the rest of his fellow vagabonds. Your
chances of getting away were good because of the owner being fat we are
talking orca fat. You know that big black and white thing that does
tricks, that kind of fat. One time he tried to chase Baker down but he
did not get very far before he collapsed. Baker thought that he killed
the guy until he saw him a few days later.
Baker stood outside the store eyeing the meats and assorted animal
parts on display in the window. He had to wait for the perfect time to
strike, when the burly man behind the counter turned his back. The last
thing he wanted to do was be caught, who knows what this terrible man
might do to him. Hunger was getting the best of Baker and he was
growing impatient, if he stood around to long the man would spot
him.
Inside the store, the man behind the counter was waiting on a customer
but he noticed Baker standing outside. Robbed before by this piece of
gutter trash he decided to rid himself of Baker's constant meddling by
calling someone that could deal with him. Knowing what was going to
ensue, he slyly picked up the phone and dialed the proper authorities.
The voice on the other end guaranteed an ETA of five minutes. The
butcher then turned his back to Baker and waited for the
inevitable.
Baker saw his chance to strike and seized the day. He ran inside
snatching a salami from the window and continued through the store to
the back door, which was always open. Darting out the door, he noticed
that he heard no shouts of protest or the thump of fat feet chasing
after him. What he did hear was a familiar whistle. A high-pitched
whistle that called to him, beckoned him. Baker knew this noise, and he
knew it meant danger. Bolting for the alley exit Baker raced around the
corner into the mob on the sidewalk. That is when he saw the blower of
the whistle.
Officer Jenkins is what he always called himself, and Baker knew him
well. He was the same person that had captured Charlie and he was a
tough one. Jenkins came around the corner directly in front of Baker
blasting his whistle repeatedly. The crowd parted for Jenkins as he ran
towards Baker, a strange pole-like object in his hands. Baker skidded
to a stop and spun around through the scores of people on the street,
salami still in his grip. He ran down the street passed the front of
the butcher shop, casting the man inside a glower as he flew by.
Jenkins' whistle bleated in his ears as he ran for safety. It would be
the end of Baker if they caught him.
Charging around a corner Baker saw another man dressed the same as
Jenkins carrying the same pole-like object in his hands. He turned and
saw Jenkins closing in, whistle hanging from his mouth like dripping
saliva. The thought of running across the street crossed baker's mind,
but that is not an easy thing to do at this time of day. Cars sped back
and forth, racing to their destinations. Baker would be dead before he
hit the pavement. Then he found himself surrounded by Jenkins and his
goons. The noise of the whistle began to disorient him and he dropped
the salami. Spinning around he noticed that there were two other people
with Jenkins now, coming at Baker with the poles. All around him, the
crowd parted and the men were upon him. Baker yelled and screamed for
help but the m?lange of those on the street just looked on in
bewilderment.
Baker noticed that the poles ended in a looped wire, which the men
were aiming at him. He batted one away but then felt something close
around his neck. They had him. Caught by the man he struggled. Baker
continued to howl and wail in protest but to no avail. After much
resistance, he fell limply to the ground exhausted, the men holding
fast to the poles that held him. Jenkins carried Baker to a truck where
he placed him in a small, dark box. Jenkins said nothing and closed the
door, leaving Baker in almost total darkness except for the slivers of
light that crept through some slits in the door.
So this was his fate, Baker thought to himself. Captured and locked
away like some sort of criminal when all he wanted to do was eat. Life
on the streets was tough he , but it could be worse. What if he was a
bum? What if he was a man?