Reminders of the Past

Johnson was a simple man. Plain. Short. Below-average intelligence. Yet, he was cunning. He knew he wasn't smart, so he would use that as a weapon. He lived in a big city, so he could rotate around the city to the different stores to try to steal. Sometimes, it worked; others, when caught, he would accuse that person of prejudice against "special" people.

He was homeless due to being unable to keep a job. His small attention span and greedy nature has led him to his less-than-ideal life. Of course he always blamed his parents, his employers, the store managers, etc for his predicament when asked questions. If anyone had wanted to get close to the stench from his body odor to his unwashed clothes to his sleep in less than savory places. Which not many people did.

It was pouring one night. He had decided to try to find a place to sleep in nicer places such as the suburbs. He had heard that new construction houses were great because none were locked and some even had running water.

He was soaked and cold. He couldn't find a single new construction house. He was in a suburb with all box brick houses with people already living there. The only thing he could think of was something he had heard from another homeless person. A get rich quick scheme. Hide in the trunk of an unlocked vehicle, then wait until the car leaves and you hear traffic. Jump out of the trunk, and claimed they kidnapped you. All the evidence would be in your favor. You would get money. Just what he wanted.

He started checking cars to see if any were unlocked. Cars, of course, being the only ones with trunks. After several attempts, he finally found one unlocked. He didn't care that the car look beat up. All he really wanted was out of the rain. He popped the trunk and climbed in; it was a tight fit with everything in there, but he fit. He pushed things around until he found a semi comfortable position after shutting the trunk.

"At least I'm out of the rain," he thought to himself as he drifted off to an uncomfortable sleep.

When he woke up due to the heat and humidity, he waited for the car to move. And he waited, and he waited. He had to pee, he was thirsty, why wasn't this person leaving for work? He got bored and anxious of the growing heat. It was a hot day. He tried finding a way out. It was pitch-black, so all he could do was feel around. He couldn't find any lever or any strings to pull.

He was getting scared now. It was hot. He was thirsty. He decided to go ahead and relieve himself. That odor, though, mixed with his own was so overwhelming, he almost threw up. His mind was racing. God, he stunk.

He decided to start yelling to try to get some kind of help. He screamed and yelled until his throat was hoarse, and he couldn't yell anymore. Which, honestly, wasn't that long since he wanted a drink. He tried kicking and punching his way out until he was too worn to move.

He waited a bit, then an idea of how to quench his thirst came to him. Cars carried water to keep them from overheating. He remember this from watching his parents fill their car a long time ago. He fumbled around shaking things, until he found a container that sounded like liquid when he shook it. It was smaller than he remembered his parents used, but newer cars are more efficient than back then.

He open it up, drank some, and immediately spit it back out. It tasted like oil. Disgusted, he felt around for a different bottle of liquid. Bingo. This one was bigger. He took a swig. It tasted funny, but not the worst he'd had. With his thirst quenched, he settled back in next to some cool metal object to try to wait it out with a nap. It felt like a toy car. He loved toy cars. He even carried one around with him from his youth.

He woke up throwing up, hotter than ever, and with an excruciating migraine. The day passes in a slow agony of pain, delirium, smells, and sleep. His only relief was when it was finally cool. He was dizzy; confused as to why he was here. His blood pounding in time to his headache and way too loud and fast. He began a cycle of passing out from pain or hunger or heat, throwing up, and trying to get out; but his attempts were feeble at best.

He didn't know how long he had been in there. He couldn't move. Didn't want to. He had tried drinking the funny water again, but was racked with so much gut pain, it was worse than his migraine. His bad smell smelled familiar. One of his last coherent thoughts was a memory from his youth.

His mom, dad, and him were going to go swimming. He was maybe 8. They had spent a few days doing nothing inside their house. It was a box brick house in a suburban neighborhood. The car was a dark gray beater with a few things wrong with it. He was insistent on swimming until his parents gave in. They usually gave in if he pestered them enough. His father said he had to take care of something first, though, and would be back in an hour or so.

His father never ran errands, so he was curious. He followed his dad despite being told to stay in the house and wait. It was hot outside. The heat hit him like a brick wall. However he still followed his father closer to the car until he was hit with a horrible smell. In fact, it was the worst smelling thing he had ever smelled in his short life. He watched his dad open the trunk, say a few words, close it, then turn to his son.

"Head back inside. I've got a surprise when I come back home," his dad had said.

Eager for the surprise, he had rushed back in, and waited. It took quite a few hours, but his dad came back with a brand new toy car. It was red; his favorite color. Their car was clean and didn't smell anymore. They went swimming and had a wonderful day. In fact, one of the best days of his life. They went for ice cream where his dad preached about the homeless problem. Johnson had never seen a problem with the homeless.

As he got older, he loved their no responsibility lifestyle. His parents had thrown him out for not taking responsibility to be an adult. Which is why he was in the predicament he is currently in.

His reflection was interrupted by the trunk opening up. He heard a kid in the background jabbering about swimming and what he was going to do once he was in the water. A face he hadn't seen in years came into view after his eyes had adjusted to the sudden bright light. He was too weak to do or say anything. He could only listen.

"You can only blame yourself."

The man closes the trunk. Johnson could only see darkness once again. The man's voice grew a little louder as he said to the boy, "Head back inside. I've got a surprise when I come back home."

Johnson felt the car door open and close. The car turn on. The driving motions start. He remembered the pothole his dad always hit. This man hit it this time. It jostles Johnson around until his scratched and faded red toy car digs into his side. He pulls it out of his pocket and cuddles it. He sinks into the memories of the day his dad bought it for him, and knew no more.