Yo. I’m a little short on funds… a little light in the wallet.  If ya feeling generous ya can drop me a deposit.  Anythin?  Anythin ya can spare.  A fiver? A tenner?  I can get freaky fer a Franklinaire.

Can ya help a bother out?

Need ta get some bits from the shop.  The bits that fit in the place I flop.  I don’t know.  Never did know a lot.  Where did my cash go?  Did I miss my shot?

Seriously… no seriously… hear me out; I’m bout ta go over the top.  Who needs a job?  I’m too free thinkin for that.  I’m not a sheeple or cop.  I eat out of trash cans sometimes, so I’ll never get fat.

Don’t judge.  Don’t judge, ya suited rat.  Ya look like ya can afford ta fill in my gap.

If I could Go Fund Me, I would.  But ya need WiFi fer that… and a computer.  I used ta have a lap top, before I got tapped.  This transit commuter is ALWAYS strapt, with his government phone and hustler couture!  Where’s that at?  I’m one pitiful cat to be sure.

But I don’t want your pity.  I just need a cure.  Can ya help a bother out?

I got this cold too, more like the flu; I hawk and spit the whole year through.  My moms knows I’ve been sniffin but only the glue- so does my counselor, my sponsor- everyone else too.  I don’t care ’bout that cause I’m livin’ off phat, the phat of my Timberlands gifted for my services from a well-ta-do WOE-man.  The phat off The Strip and the blubber from the vat of The Sands.

See?  I can sing fer my supper too.  How I got here, I don’t have a clue.

Seriously… no, but, seriously… hear me out, don’t take me wrong.  I’m a little light in my loafers, my accounts and my dong, but I live fer my moments- sad I can’t pay fer my bombs.  But… but… ya see… I need a donut, yo!  And I need some money fer my motel room, bro.  Maybe a drink to keep calm.




So can ya spare some skrill?

A clammy drill?

Some of them little yellow pills?


Yo… give us a cigarette, bro!  Help a bother out.


Got some little brown sores that look like smores an’ a coat that I think is magic… my Medicaid’s been dumped, my broad’s been humped by another sucker as tragic.

So, listen… seriously… I got a bus ta catch… I’m stranded like a toad.  I’m tumblin down the hatch, tossed at the side a the road.  I’m short.  I’m broke.  I’m a five dollar whore and a fifty cent joke.  But, that ain’t the point.  I need to get a beer.  Could ya buy me a beer?  Gimme a hit a yer joint?

I got shorted; mission aborted; don’t get it distorted; just hear me out.

Just a little grease fer my wheels.

I need somethin real.


Somethin.  Just somethin.  Can ya help a bother out?


I’m so skint, got pocket full a lint and my lucky flint lighter that’s out a fuel.  Don’t mean to be a tool.  I just don’t feel so well.  Shit, I don’t feel good at all.  Teeth roots a rottin in my jaw.  Belly so full of impacted stool.  Heck, I haven’t crapped for a week or two, but I’ll be a’ight.  Especially if ye can spot me?  Just a lilla skrilla to get me through the night?

Somethin?  Anythin?


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