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They tossed him into a corner underneath a boarded up window; he grunted in pain as he contacted the floor. Thankfully, he'd managed to twist at the last moment so he landed on his left side; he had to protect what he could on his right side. It saved him some agony but meant he was facing the dirty wall. Someone had wallpapered the room and then painted a dozen or more coats over the wallpaper. He could tell because the wallpaper was peeling in several places at the bottom floorboard. He counted at least a dozen colors; it could have been more.Calix turned his head a bit and could see the sun through gaps in the boards over the windows, so it was morning or at least sometime during the day. He could also see heavy metal bars on the windows. Again, nothing useful; damn near every house in Detroit had metal bars over the windows. You only got to keep what couldn't be stolen from you in the city.After a while, he rolled carefully over onto his back; that was when he noticed he wasn't. ’ Julianna smiled. ‘Hey Hope what do you think of Pam’s kissing abilities?’ Curt blurted from the living room. ‘You’re a lucky man Curt.’ Hope smiled. ‘Actually I think Rick’s the lucky man in this whole thing.’ Peter smiled. ‘And why is that?’ Julianna asked. ‘Is it because he has a girl who kisses girls?’ ‘Well how come you never do that for me?’ Peter asked. ‘Okay Peter to make you happy,’ Julianna said. She walked over to Hope and kissed her passionately while all the guys watched excitedly. Pamela walked over and pulled Julianna to her and kissed her, immediately placing her tongue in her mouth. The three guys all looked at each other. ‘Gentlemen.’ Peter smiled. ‘I think we are the luckiest men that ever lived.’ ‘Ever.’ Rick added. ‘No, what would make us the luckiest men is to see them all do each other.’ Curt smirked obviously testing how far the women would go to please their men. Hope looked out with a smile then pressed herself against Julianna and Pamela. She reached her.
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He was sixty five, but he looked like ninety five. His hair dragged down his back to just under his shoulder blades. In the front, he had no hair. When viewed from the top, he looked like a furry toilet seat. He was just dropping off to sleep when station security showed up. ‘Get off the bench, you bum. This isn’t a hotel,’ ordered the big, burly agent. ‘Scram, get out of here!’ ‘I have nowhere to go.’ ‘Tough, this isn’t a charity house. Go find a soup kitchen or a flop house. Get out!’ The old man got clumsily to his feet and headed for the door. He knew there was a soup kitchen around there somewhere, but his drug softened brain wouldn’t tell him where. He stumbled out onto the sidewalk and started down the street. He only went two blocks when he recognized the soup kitchen and staggered inside. The evening meal was about to be served but first he had to listen to a sermon. After the sermon, he and all the other lost souls lined up at the serving line and got a ration of fresh.

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