Shooting for luck

Tick, tock, tick, tock

The metronomic sound of the neon sign outside of the window of this hell hole. The only reason that I'm here is that I don't have a choice. Who the hell am I kidding? No one who lives here does so out of choice.

Anyone with a choice would pack, if they had anything to pack, and get out of here fast. Having sat in the lobby for the best part of an afternoon I can say that most of the guests pack light.

Maybe a bottle in a brown paper bag and a carton of smokes, but not much else.

Tick, tock, tick, tock

That sign doesn't give up. I imagine that at one time the otherworldly glow produced the letters that screamed the name of this dump into the night sky. It used to say County but the o and the y have now fused so only an obscenity punctuates the night in this end of town, all the while keeping time nicely.

You'd think that the local authority would have the sign switched off but this end of the street has been overlooked for so long that no even the garbage gets collected by a municipal employee. Nope every now and then a truck belonging to one of the churches drives slowly along the street, taking care never to stop, while the local residents throw their trash on the back.

The truck drives only once along the street so there is no catching it if you happen to miss it.

From my eerie I can see the whole length of the street; it's life, it's people. Down there is where anything is possible and the impossible can some times be made possible if the price is right.

Those who take part in this nightly neon hell are the people for whom life has robbed of the chance of choice. Choice would mean that you have a job, some money and no record at the local precinct. Choice would mean not having to slip cash in envelopes to those who are charged with keeping you safe.

But when choice is gone, one drug is much like another; people can be bought and sold; those with choice can take advantage. Everyone knows the score.

Of course when another reality asserts itself into this realm, those caught in the mayhem will need plausible deniability; an excuse to avoid the worst excesses of the judicial system; but really they all know the score.

Checking into this place is like going to the dentist; you don't want to but you have to.