Disclaimer: Thirteen days since I last updated and no, this hiatus doesn't mean that I was prepping to write a really awesome chapter. In fact, this one might just be the worst of the bunch. Oh well. Here's the Money Song as performed by America and Spain.
Alfred lay curled up in a cardboard box on the corner of Essex Street, an empty beer bottle clenched in his hand and looking worse for the wear. His trademark bomber jacket was ripped and covered in stains, his jeans had patches on the knees and a huge rip on his ass that showed off the fact that he was down to his last pair of (unwashed) boxers, the right lens of his glasses was cracked, and he was only wearing one shoe, revealing that his formerly white socks had turned black with age and lack of cleaning and that his left big toe was sticking out through a hole in the cotton. He was even wearing one of those loose-fitting pull-over hats usually reserved for crackheads and had a serious case of five o' clock shadow going on. All in all, Alfred had definitely seen better days. Alas, his comedy club had gone down the crapper and his constant mockery of the health and sanitation department every time they issued him warnings and fines certainly hadn't helped him to keep it afloat. So, here he was, a down on his luck New York City hobo living off of the kindness of strangers.
Too bad the vast majority of New Yorkers were assholes. So far today, he'd been passed by six people, all of whom had various reactions to his plight. The short dark-haired Italian guy and the tall blonde Terminator-esque German man had literally skipped across the street towards him only to point and laugh while saying some Nazi shit about Schadenfreude. They had then proceeded to make out heavily in front of him for ten minutes, their groping and kissing growing more frenzied until the foul-mouthed Italian began to fumble with the German guy's belt buckle while the tall blonde fisted the other man's hair, at which point a disgusted Alfred proceeded to relocate his box-house further down the block, away from their... enthusiasm. He may have been a hobo, but he still wanted to keep the last remaining vestiges of his dignity, and having a sadomasochistic couple who got off on the sorrow of others fuck on top of him definitely wasn't dignified.
Unfortunately, the sadistic sons of bitches actually followed him down the street so that the Italian could sit beside him, put on a pair of hipster glasses and do the Thinker pose while his German boyfriend took several pictures with his phone before gathering up the smaller man in his arms and shoving him up against the wall of a nearby building. They began to make out and fumble with each other's clothes again and Alfred, unable to take any more of it, threw himself at the two of them and opened up a family-sized can of whoopass on the horny sadists, repeatedly whacking them with bags full of crumpled burger wrappers and his faeces while shouting how they liked being the ones to suffer while douchebags laughed. Being a stereotypical coward and neat freak respectively, they couldn't take too much of being waylaid with sacks of shit and instead threw their wallets at him before running into a nearby taxi and speeding away. Irritating, yes, but he'd managed to score five hundred bucks and a condom from the two jerks. (The money would fund him with more McDonalds and maybe a fresh set of drawers and the condom would make an interesting hat.)
The next people to pass him were a red-eyed albino guy with an annoying hiss of a laugh that he just wouldn't shut the hell up with and a pretty girl with long golden-brown hair and an annoyed expression who whipped out a huge skillet and bashed the man across the head with it while snarling at him to be quiet. The albino, whose name was Gilbert according to what the girl shouted, rubbed at the large bump forming on his scalp and called her a bitch, at which his girlfriend flew at him like a wrecking ball made of pure fury, enveloping the two of them in a cartoonish dust cloud. For a few minutes, all Alfred could hear were grotesque cracking noises and fleshy thumps and then, the guy was lying in an unconscious heap on the street, formerly white hair dripping red and his face reduced to a puffy caricature of what it once was. Alfred inwardly cringed and hoped that the guy could afford to spare a few pints of blood while simultaneously lauding the woman's fighting prowess. The golden-haired girl turned towards him and expecting an asskicking, Alfred covered his face and prayed that she wouldn't go for his balls first. However, she merely smiled at him and placed a ten dollar bill in his empty McDonalds soda cup before hauling her boyfriend to his feet and dragging him away, presumably to the nearest hospital. So, that one had ended well for him (not so much for the other guy though, who looked like he had a concussion) and sort of restored his hope in humanity.
The next incident was...strange, to put it mildly. And highly disturbing. It was what once again destroyed his faith in humans, in fact. Alfred had been lounging in his cardboard box, admitting to himself that it wasn't too bad to sit around all day and bum money off of strangers when a scarily tall, stony-faced guy with a scar across his forehead, spiky hair and a long scarf looped around his neck stepped in front of him, glaring. And glaring. And glaring. And glaring some more. Alfred was beginning to wonder if he was going to be the next homeless man featured on the ten o' clock news for being brutally murdered by a random thug when the man grunted at him that he was on his turf and to get his ass to another street unless he wanted to eat the sidewalk.
Alfred gulped. "Look Mr. Drug Dealer, I'll just go, I swear. Just don't curb stomp me!" He began. To his amazement, the man turned around at the sound of approaching footsteps. Alfred turned as well, and saw two girls walking down the street. They were both short in the extreme, and looked quite similar to one another but for the fact that one was very er, well-developed and had long reddish hair, round glasses, and an impassive expression while the other was more modestly endowed and had dark brown hair cut into a shoulder-length bob and a huge smile on her face. The two of them were wearing what Alfred assumed to be school uniforms: red-plaid pinafore dresses over white button-down shirts and black ties, thigh-length white socks, black Mary-Jane shoes. The darker-haired girl tugged at her friends arm upon catching sight of the tall spiky-haired man and whispered something, the smile slipping off of her face while the other girl's previous blank expression turned into a scowl.
Alfred scratched his head, wondering why they were reacting so badly. And then he caught a glimpse of the guy's face, which could only be described as creepy with a dash of molester. Woah, dude looks kinda like Pedobear, Alfred thought. The one with the glasses and the long hair pulled her arm free from her friend's grasp and stepped up towards the drug dealer, giving him a look that promised severe injury. "Shit's about to get real," Alfred mumbled quietly, wishing that he had a bucket of popcorn with him.
The girl crossed her arms across her impressive chest and glared. "What the fuck are you doing here, Lars?" She spat. "Lailani and I are trying to go home, so move your pasty ass aside before I introduce it to my foot, bastardo."
Lars simply smiled. Then again, Alfred would've done the same if he were the one being threatened by a teenage girl who just barely scraped past meeting the height requirement to be certified as a legal midget. "I'd rather you not do that. But, I have something that I'd like to introduce to the two of you," he said, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. That was the wrong thing to do.
Letting out a noise that could only be described as something between a screech and a roar, the girl grabbed Lars by the wrist, heaved him up into the air, threw him and for good measure round-house kicked him several meters down the street. The girl with the bobbed hair then walked up to him and finished the job by kicking him in the nuts, eliciting a horrible cracking sound that echoed down the street and caused Alfred to clutch at his own junk in sympathy. "I don't know whether that was referring to your dick or drugs. Either way, we're not interested, perv," she said, linking arms with the other girl. "C'mon Cat, let's go." The two of them marched away, whacking the semi-conscious Lars with their schoolbags for good measure while Alfred looked on in stupefied amazement at the insanity of New York City.
Eventually, the drug dealing ephebophile had shaken himself off and limped away, muttering something about showing up at the high school bright and early tomorrow morning to scope out the premises. Alfred shook his head. "Dude needs to go for women his own age. Fifteen will get you twenty." Then he shrugged. "Can't say I blame him though," he admitted. "Freshly developed boobs are the best." He leaned back and stretched his arms over his head, ready to take a pre-Big Mac nap when he spotted a cheerful-looking man with dark, wavy hair and bright green eyes bouncing down the street.
Alfred immediately began to crack up. "Haha, dude runs like Scott Evil!" He paused, blue eyes brightening. "A guy that retarded happy will definitely give me some money!" He began to wave his hand wildly. "Hey, hey you, smiley guy! Help the homeless! Help the homeless!" Alfred's eye began to twitch when the man began to run circles in his odd, flamboyant manner around his box-house rather than heeding his request. "I SAID HELP THE HOMELESS BY GIVING ME A QUARTER, NOT BY DANCING LIKE A FAIRY AROUND MY HOUSE!" He shouted.
The man stopped, cocking his head at him curiously. "Hola stranger, I'm Antonio. What were you yelling about just now? I couldn't hear you because I was too busy trying to ignore the horrible smells wafting around. Do you know what the source of the stink is, amigo?"
"It's probably me," Alfred said matter-of-factly. "And since hardly anyone is listening to me when I talk, maybe you'll listen to me if I sing," he added. "God, I hate singing," he added, frowning.
Antonio began to clap happily. "Ooh, a song! I wish I'd brought my guitar!" He sighed wistfully and plopped himself beside Alfred. Sniffing the air, he smiled widely. "Si, that smell is definitely you, amigo! I recommend Febreze. Seriously, it's muy malo."
"And I recommend you shutting the hell up and letting me get on with my song before I go muy malo upside your head," Alfred said.
The Spaniard smiled and shrugged, oblivious to the threat. "Okey-dokey."
Alfred cleared his throat, stood up and attempted to flatten his hair down in an attempt to look somewhat presentable, which was pointless considering the fact that he was a raggedy-ass hobo who hadn't bathed in days. But whatever. Pointedly ignoring his own odour, which was indeed very offensive, he proceeded to sing.
"Give me a quarter,"
"Here in my hat!" He tore the condom out of its foil packaging and waved it around like some sort of bizarre latex flag.
"Come on, Smiley,"
"It's as easy as that!"
"Helping others brings you closer to God,"
"So for real, give me a freaking quarter before I shank you."
Antonio scratched his head curiously. "Uhm...That's a funny-looking hat." He wrinkled his nose. "Why is it all sticky and smell like sausage?"
Frowning, Alfred held it up to his nose and sniffed it. "Ew! Who the fuck uses wurst-flavoured condoms?" He shrieked, tossing it aside disgustedly and wiping his hands across his jeans.
"Wow, wearing that gives new meaning to the term pork sword!" Antonio exclaimed. "Maybe Emma will forgive me if I use one of those...Oh yeah, I don't have any change," he added, looking rueful.
Alfred shrugged. "Hm...Okay. Gimme a dollar!" He sang.
"That's not what I meant," Antonio began.
"Then gimme a five," Alfred trilled.
Antonio raised his eyebrows. "Are you kidding?"
"The more you give,"
"The more you get."
"That's being alive!"
"All I'm asking you,"
"Is to do what"
"Jesus Christ would do."
"He'd give me a quarter,"
"Why don't you?" Alfred sang/demanded.
Antonio sighed. "Well, Jésus Cristo is muy bueno, so fine." He fished around in the pocket of his pants and found a quarter, which he tossed into Alfred's soda cup. "Here you go."
"Ah, thanks!" Alfred said happily. Sucker, he thought.
Antonio began to walk away. "Take care," he said, waving. He came to an abrupt halt in mid-step, an elated expression on his face. He looked as though he had seen the face of Jesus Himself and been bathed in the effervescent glow of His holy light. Or he was experiencing the after-effects of a powerful hallucinogen. "Ay Dios Mio!" Antonio exclaimed, his eyes full of wonder.
Alfred began to inch away from the apparently tripping man. "Uh...What's the matter?" He asked cautiously.
Antonio placed his hand over his heart, strange expression still pasted across his face. His lips quirked up and he began to twirl around in circles like a ballerina.
"I feel generous!"
"I feel compassionate!" Antonio warbled, sounding rather like a Disney Princess coaxing woodland animals to assist with menial household chores. Alfred was surprised that pigeons and sewer rats didn't come over and start dancing while wearing little top hats.
"Oh," he said. "Seriously?"
"Si!" Antonio chirped.
"I feel like a new person-A GOOD person!"
"Helping others out makes you feel fantastic!" He exclaimed joyously.
"Uh, that's what I said earlier," Alfred said. "Are you sure you're feeling okay? You haven't mixed alcohol with pills or something, right? 'Cus you seem like you're tripping total balls right now..."
Antonio continued on with his epiphany, unaware of Alfred's consternation.
"All this time I've been running around thinking,"
"About me, me, me - and where has it gotten me?!"
"I'm gonna do something for someone else!"
"Me?" Alfred said hopefully.
"No! My girlfriend Emma!" Antonio sighed dreamily.
"I'm going to raise the money to help her build that stupid waffle and chocolate making school she's always talking about!" He began to eye Alfred's cup full of cash. "Give me your money!" He cried, making a mad dash for it.
Alfred quickly snatched up the cup and held it over his head. "What the fucking what?" He shouted furiously.
"I need it for Emma!" Antonio pleaded.
"Yeah well, tough tits. I need it to eat!" Alfred snapped.
"Come on, Mr. Hobo!" Antonio cajoled.
"Eh, fuck off," Alfred said, waving his hand lazily. "Go on, take a hike."
"It'll make you feel great," Antonio attempted, waggling his eyebrows as though he was propositioning Alfred for sex.
"So would a cheeseburger," Alfred said tonelessly.
Antonio decided to change tactics.
"When her dream comes true,"
"It'll all be partly,"
"Thanks to you!"
"So give me your money!" He beg-sang.
Alfred looked at him incredulously. "I'd like to, but I really can't."
"Give your money!" Antonio implored.
"Dude, you are skull-fucking insane. I'm only going to do this once," Alfred said. He began to sing as well.
"I'd like to, but I'm homeless!"
"I can't! I need it! I'm homeless!"
"I'd give it to you for your retarded plan, but I'm GODDAM HOMELESS!"
"You want to take my money to build your bitch a school, but see, here's the thing: I'M HOMELESS, YOU DIPSHIT!"
"Who the hell takes money from a homeless person?"
"You want to get laid so bad, use your own cash!"
"Now get away from my box!"
With that, Alfred picked up his trusty bags of crap and garbage and swung them at Antonio's head, who ducked and took the opportunity to snatch his money-cup, which he had foolishly put down on the sidewalk.
Running down the street in a lurid flailing of his arms and feet, Antonio called "Don't worry amigo, when we build that school, I'll remember and reimburse you, I swear!"
Cursing, Alfred threw down his cardboard box/house and proceeded to trample it into the ground. "Son of a bitch!" He screamed. "I will have my revenge, you paella-pissing, flamenco-dancing dick-muncher! REVENGE, I SAY!"
A/N: Man, I tormented one of my favourite characters today. But don't worry folks, Alfred got reimbursed three months later and is now living in a hand-shaped mansion, where he spends the majority of his time in the thumb and middle finger sections.