Disclaimer: Jay & Silent Bob are the intellectual property of Kevin Smith and View Askew Productions, and I have no intent to profit financially from the use of these characters.

THREE

I don't know about this guy. He's sitting over there, all cool and shit, eating his ham and cheese on white. I ain't been able to figure him out yet. Stepped all in my shit the other night and that look on his face, big bearded mother fucker in a trench coat, I figured that was the end of me. I jumped up to defend myself, I ain't gonna just lay there and get the crap kicked out of me, but he seemed to think that was funny.

Not that he was laughing. Just lost that nasty frown and smoked his cigarette. Yeah, he thought it was funny, big mother fucker like him looking at a skinny little shit like me, but he don't know me. He don't know I been handling myself on the street a long time now and I got some moves on me. How else you think I've lived this long, if I ain't got moves?

So he didn't kick my ass and instead he bought me something to eat. I didn't trust that shit, no way, nobody gives you something for nothing in this world, that's for fucking sure, but he didn't ask for his up front. Thought I was getting over, getting out of that diner with my belly full, without having to take it in the mouth.

Thought that'd be the end of it, until I saw him today, wandering around downtown looking all tough and mean. Shit, figured he was looking to collect, maybe he was fucking stalking me. People do that shit you know, get all obsessed, follow somebody around, and then fuck 'em up when it don't work out. Maybe I don't look like much, at least not the way I am now, all dirty and beat up, but there ain't ever been no shortage of perverts trying to climb into my ass.

I was hoping he wouldn't find me, sticking to the alleys, pulling my hat down low and watching for him real careful. Didn't keep me from trying to make some money, though, cause I knew it was gonna get cold tonight, cold enough to freeze my ass to death if I didn't find someplace warm to crash. So I was making money for a cheap hotel room the fastest way I knew how.

That fucking gorilla, that big dopey moron, acting like he'd settle for head and pay me what I asked until he got me back behind that dumpster, and then he starts fucking grabbing my package and trying to stick his hand in my shorts. I'll do alot of shit I don't want to for money, when I need it bad enough, but I don't take it up the ass and I don't let nobody grab my shit.

But he was big and fuck if he wasn't fast too, and he had me kissing the concrete before I knew it. Couldn't breathe with his big fucking paw over my face, and the way he was pulling my head back, I thought for a minute, he might just fucking kill me by accident, break my neck or suffocate me while he was trying to stuff himself up my ass.

And then who turns up but Silent Bob, that crazy bitch, with his backwards baseball cap and his bad ass trench coat, looked like a fucking ten-cent superhero standing there, except he was panting like he just came off a fucking marathon. What the fuck was I supposed to think about that?

It just gets weirder every minute, I can tell you that. Yanks me out of danger, takes me home with him and feeds me again. I don't think he's from no church or no charity, not the way he was walking himself around town like a bad ass, looking all tough, but he don't act like no pervert I've ever run into before either. He don't look at me like I got the plague, either, like most people do. I don't know what to think.

I don't want to take nothing more than I have to, but it's gonna be so fucking cold tonight and I didn't make any money today to buy me a night inside anywheres. Fuck, I ain't even got my coat anymore, last time I shut my eyes for more than two seconds, some asshole was ripping it off of me. I tried to hang onto it, it was the warmest thing I had, I fought that fucker hard, but he was stronger than me. Busted my fucking lip, too.

I ain't seen a mirror in awhile, much less a bar of soap. I must look like a fucking reject. No telling how many marks I got on me by now, and I know I'm a fucking pig sty. I hate that shit. I hate being all fucking dirty. But when you ain't got someplace warm to crash, you can't get wet, not even just your face in the sink inside the bus station bathroom, cause the minute you step back outside you got that fucking wind blowing on you and you're twice as cold as you were before.

Maybe Silent Bob'll let me take a shower. Fuck, that would be the bomb, if I could take a hot shower, get this stink off of me, wash my hair. It's my best feature, all long and blonde and wavy, when it's clean. It ain't been clean in real long fucking time.

I look over at him. He's sitting there on his couch, it's a nice couch too, looks like maybe it's leather, he's sitting there all quiet with his empty plate. I'm done eating so I put my plate in the sink. I been on the street a long time, but I ain't no animal, you know. I know how to act. I walk into the living room with my hands stuck in my pockets and look around. Silent Bob's got some nice shit, nice TV, nice stereo.

He's watching me, he knows I'm looking at his shit, probably thinks I'm gonna try and lift some of it, but like I said, I ain't no animal. I don't steal from just anybody. Sure, if somebody fucks me over, I might boost some of their shit, but Silent Bob's been straight up with me so far. What kind of asshole would I be, to take shit from him? I got morals. They ain't as tight assed as some people's, but I got 'em.

"Hey Silent Bob, you think maybe I could take a shower?" He raises his eyebrows and thinks about it for a second, like it's a big surprise I'd ask. "What the fuck, you think I like being all dirty and shit? Just cause I live out on the street and I ain't got no bathtub don't mean I like it that way, don't mean I like walking around smelling like somebody's gym socks. Fuck."

Now he's smiling at me. He don't look so scary when he smiles, he looks like a nice guy, somebody that might have a straight job and a couple of kids he likes enough not to knock around. There's people like that in the world. I've never met 'em, but I know they're out there, one or two anyway.

Course, I ain't counting on Silent Bob being one of them.

He nods at me about the shower and shows me where the bathroom is, off the one little bedroom in this joint. He digs around in the bedroom closet and comes out with a towel and a washcloth. They even match. He hands 'em to me and waves at the bathroom, then leaves. Cool.

I lock the bathroom door behind me, that's for sure, I don't care how nice he comes off, I ain't taking no chances, especially while I'm gonna be all naked and wet. Fuck no. I peel off all my clothes, my hat, my shoes all beat to hell and my socks full of holes, all my shirts and my fucked up jeans, and that underwear, fuck, maybe I should just throw that shit away. Yeah. I better throw it away. I toss it in the trash can.

Water's so hot, feels so fucking good, standing there letting it run and run and run. You know how long it's been since I had a shower? Since I was really warm, all the way down to my fucking bones? I scrub every inch of skin I got, every crack and crevice. Twice. I brush my teeth real good with the washcloth. I spend a long time on my hair cause it's a real mess and I really want it to look good. I know it won't stay that way, shit, I won't be on the street two nights before I'll be looking like a trash heap again, but it don't matter. Even if I just look good for an hour, it's worth it.

I stay in there as long as I can, until all that hot water runs out. It ain't till I'm standing there on Silent Bob's little foot shaped bathmat (matches the towel and the washcloth too, how about that shit?) that I realize all I got to put back on is those fucking shitty clothes. Fuck, I hate that. Then I nearly jump out of my skin cause Silent Bob is knocking on the bathroom door.

"I've got some old clothes you can wear." Shit, is he fucking psychic, or what? "I'll leave them on the bed. They're not much and they'll probably be too big, but they're clean. You can wash your clothes tomorrow, if you want, I'll show you the laundry room."

That's the most he's said at one time since he stepped on me the other day! "Yeah, ok. That'd be cool. Like I said, it ain't like I enjoy being all dirty." I finish drying off and open the door a little. He's gone and the bedroom door is closed. I step over there real quick and lock it, just in case.

Track pants, a long sleeved t-shirt, both black, a pair of socks and a pair of tighty whities are on the bed. Lunchbox was right, they're a little big, but not by too much, and I put them on and walk around a second. Feels good to be clean and wearing clean clothes. First time in months. I go back into the bathroom and find a blow dryer and a hairbrush.

Yeah, yeah, may seem like a waste of time, but if I'm gonna do this, I might as well do it right. Looking in the mirror for the first time, though, that ain't so funny. I'm fucking hideous. I almost wish I hadn't looked. Look like I went a few rounds with fucking Mike Tyson, I got so many bruises and cuts. My fucking busted lip, the scab on my cheek, the bottom of my chin . . . and I didn't realize I'd lost so much weight. I could be fucking anorexic, the way I look, can see all the bones through my skin.

Fuck.

That really gets to me, more than anything, that gets to me, looking at myself in the mirror and seeing what I see. I used to be fucking good looking, you know, back when I was still living in foster homes and going to school, girls were always checking me out. I had plenty of action.

But I been on the street about a year now and I guess this is what happens. You don't eat enough, you don't sleep enough, and you get your ass kicked every couple of days, this is what you look like.

I feel like I might cry, I really do, like a little bitch with a skinned knee. What a pussy. Get it together, Jay. What are you, a fucking loser? I turn my back on the fucked up guy in the mirror. What good's it gonna do, to stand there and feel sorry for yourself and cry like a fucking baby? I bite my lip and sniff alot and swallow a few times until the lump in my throat goes away.

I dry my hair without turning back around and clean up after myself. Hang up the towel, put away the dryer and the brush, bundle up my dirty clothes. Forget what I saw in the mirror. Won't make that mistake again.

Silent Bob's sitting in his recliner when I come back out and there's a sheet and a blanket and a pillow on the nice leather couch. He looks up and makes a weird face. "What the fuck you looking at, bitch?" I say. "You think I don't know what I look like? All fucked up? Quit fucking staring at me." He looks like I offended him for some reason, and shakes his head real hard. "Oh I don't look like a fucking train wreck then?" He shakes his head again. "You're fucking blind, Silent Bob, on top of being fat and retarded and who knows what else."

His eyebrows come together and he tilts his head at me. Geez, this fucker can say alot without talking. "Yeah, ok, fuck, so I'm being an asshole and all you've done is be nice to me. Well don't think I'm buying that line of shit, cause I ain't. I ain't got you figured out yet, I don't know what gets you off about all this, but I'm watching you. You ain't catching me by surprise." He keeps staring at me awhile and don't say nothing.

Is he pissed off? Is he thinking about how fun it's gonna be to kick my ass and leave me out in the street like a fucking human popsicle? But finally he looks away, at the TV, and turns it on with a remote control. I stand there a little longer with the adrenaline rush still pushing through my veins, my heart beating fast, ready to run or to take him on, whichever I gotta do. Then he looks at me again and shakes his head, waves at the couch.

Fine, he's gonna play it all cool, so can I. I fix up the sheet and lay down, roll up inside the blanket so he can't pull it off of me without waking me up, and settle down wheres I can see him and the TV at the same time. I ain't seen TV in a long time. You forget about shit like that when you're busy surviving from day to day, but I really miss it. He flips channels and I start running my mouth about everything that rolls by, mostly cause I like to talk, but also cause I want to try and stay awake as long as I can.

Shit, it's early, I know he ain't gonna go to sleep before I do, I got maybe five minutes before I pass out, I'm so fucking tired, but I stretch it out as long as I can and I keep my eye on him. He seems to be getting a kick out of me and my big mouth, he's sitting over there laughing. He ain't making any noise, crazy fuck, but he's got one of those big grins on his face and his belly's shaking.

Like I said, he seems like a decent guy, but then again, some of those fucking foster families seemed decent too, right up till the minute "dad" or "big brother" turned up in the middle of the night, trying to slide between the sheets and show me their fucking boner.

I wouldn't be here if I didn't have to be. If it wasn't so cold outside, I wouldn't take the risk. But sometimes you got to choose between the frying pan and the fire and hope you don't wake up with somebody's cock in your mouth.