Normally I would apologize for an author note but this time I could care less about it bothering you readers, not to be rude. As I stated in chapter one this story is close to my heart for many reasons and I will now tell about one of them. When I started this story I had someone on my mind and his name was George. George was a homeless man who lived under a bridge in my town and inspired me to right this. After seeing him for many days my friend and I bought him some food and sat down to talk to him. At first glance you would never want to talk to him but after we did we couldn't get enough of him. One of the saddest days of our time together was when some punk kids stole his wheelchair while he was sleeping in a cardboard box. Eventually we were able to find him a replacement which ended up being a lot better than the one he did have. Earlier this evening my friend Daniel called to tell me that an ambulance was under the bridge and was taking George's body away. According to the doctors he had a heart attack. I will admit that at this very moment both Daniel and I are a little under the influence of alcohol. This story is for all those like George. Please if you're ever out there and you see someone who is homeless asking for help just try to help. I'm not saying giving them money is the right thing to do, because that isn't what I am saying. Had it not been for Daniel and I buying George a burger from the McDonald's dollar menu we never would have met that wonderful man.
R.I.P. George