I should have known that it was too good to be true. It’s been about a month since my slumber has been disrupted by the shrieks and cries of the late-night street walker I’ve dubbed “The Screamer”. Perhaps he’s been on vacation or curled up in  a doorway somewhere sleeping off his Thanksgiving hangover. (Musta been a doozy). At any rate, last night – err, early this morning rather – through my paper-thin windows and half-plugged ears I was stirred by the familiar bellows of a disturbed man walking up Polk street. I don’t know how far he wanders or how long he carries on as I only have to hear him from say…Sacramento to a bit past Washington Street until his voice fades and I can remove the pillow from my head. If he would just scream something worthwhile (like where’s the cheapest gas in the city) I might be slightly less inclined to want to taser him in the face.

 

The Screamer

The Screamer

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