Let's see how this one goes.

Disclaimer: You know it. I know it. Lawyers know it. I own nothing.

Chapter 2: Alfred the Trader

Alfred's a character. He's also an outsider like me, though at least he isn't constantly peppered with vegetable entrails. Ah well, it's nourishment…kinda.

His makeshift stand and subsequent junk piles are only a short distance from my 'home', so I'm usually able to slink along within the shadows of the abandoned structures flanking the dirt street. Which I do. Most of the time. When I'm in a foul mood, I like to walk in broad daylight, daring them to just try to cross me. They still do. Looks like I haven't learned my lesson. Doubt I ever will.

Today is one of those days when I can walk holding my head high. Not because I'm in a bad mood but because no one is awake at this unlawful hour. Except Alfred. He knows to expect my business in the early moments of dawn.

And there he is. I walk within viewing distance to find him wearing that ridiculous paper hat (seriously, why would anyone be willing to put a bent cone on his head? There's no way that's fashion) and his same ol' eye-blistering grin. I don't know why he doesn't get it patented. It's a powerful weapon. With the correct intentions and the right direction, that grin would be perfect for blinding an entire army. Or some ragtag gang.

"What a fine morning to be out for a stroll, stranger!" he calls to me. I pause and sniff the air. Well, I suppose that the rancid stench of human wastes mixed with the fumes of bloated animal corpses has abated. At least for a while. Or maybe I've stumbled onto some fairy patch of violets and honeysuckles that has been left to wither in the dust.

I almost slap the notion from my head. The stench is getting to me. Yeah, that's the reason.

Alfred dims his grin a bit as I approach. He also attempts to leap out from behind his stand to embrace my "lovely guns" as he calls them. Note 'attempts'. When Alfred makes his leap, he gets caught on the front end of his wobbly stand and sends both limbs and bathrobe sprawling into the dirt before my feet. Like I said earlier, Alfed's a character.

"Need a hand, Alfred?" I ask. With a shake of his over-cheerful head, he rises and dusts off his hole-ridden robe. I swear that even if he was being eaten alive, he'd still be grinning through the whole process. And blinding the unsuspecting.

"It's all good." Then he glances over his shoulder at what once was his stand. It's a pitiful sight. His smile falls immediately, and he begins to resemble a kicked puppy. "I suppose I should be more careful."

"Don't worry. I'll help you rebuild." Alfred waves my generous words away as if they were a pesky fly buzzing in his ear.

"Your presence is bad for business." Ok, I'll admit it: that stung. Not even noticing my adverse reaction, Alfred brightens as his mind lines up several deals within his head. "Whatcha got for me, Big Man?"

I silently produce several pages of an old newspaper from my pocket. Snatching them from my hand, Alfred checks the date and nods his approval. "Not bad reading material. Haven't seen any from this decade in a long while. What do you want for it?"

"An alarm clock."

"Another one?!" His incredulous expression doesn't fade even when I nod. "You gotta stop breaking them, Big Man; you're draining my supply!"

"Who else would even waste the effort to buy one of your crappy clocks?" I retort.

"You'd be surprised." Cradling the newspaper, Alfred disappears behind the one of his enormous piles. "Take a look around! You might find something that you'll like!" Though I unleash a scornful snort, I decide to take his advice and observe his junk.

That scoundrel has every kind of thingamabob and doohickey known to man. Rusted coils, halves of springs, shattered glass, broken disks, nuts and bolts of every size, useless tires, toasters with their insides open to the harsh world, and just shit that I don't even know how to describe abound. Although, I admit with a gleam in my eye, some of the pieces do appear worthy of further analysis. And that is how I meet Tony: by scouring and dissecting Alfred's garbage.