There’s this homeless man named Slater that I see almost every day on my walk home from work. He wears black Dickies clothes from head to toe. His feet and hands are as big as loaves of bread and one of his eyes is frozen shut. His raspy voice can be heard shouting up and down Rodeo Drive. He calls me Eddie Haskell. I really don’t know where that came from. He’ll see me on the other side of the street and shout, “Eh yo, Eddie Haskell! What’s up man?” I normally wave or if I’m on the same side of the street I’ll sit and chat for a minute. Today he stopped me and went on his regular crazy rant about how ever since Dickies started sewing buttons on the back pocket women have stopped talking to him. That’s why he rips the button off… I guess we’re all looking for someone and this guy is doing it with only one eye! I should stop bitching and be grateful that I’ve got at least two eyes to do it with.

There’s this homeless man named Slater that I see almost every day on my walk home from work. He wears black Dickies clothes from head to toe. His feet and hands are as big as loaves of bread and one of his eyes is frozen shut. His raspy voice can be heard shouting up and down Rodeo Drive. He calls me Eddie Haskell. I really don’t know where that came from. He’ll see me on the other side of the street and shout, “Eh yo, Eddie Haskell! What’s up man?” I normally wave or if I’m on the same side of the street I’ll sit and chat for a minute. Today he stopped me and went on his regular crazy rant about how ever since Dickies started sewing buttons on the back pocket women have stopped talking to him. That’s why he rips the button off… I guess we’re all looking for someone and this guy is doing it with only one eye! I should stop bitching and be grateful that I’ve got at least two eyes to do it with.