I Never Busked

Hando had been living in the garage for a week now and he’d made himself a nest upstairs. He cleaned out all the trash and put his Nazi things out. He spent a lot of time working on the shower upstairs. Boz was no help and Hando wondered if he even had a shower downstairs. It was Saturday morning and he fixed himself a bowl of cereal and sat on the iron steps that led to the downstairs part where Boz lived.

He heard him moving around as he crunched his cereal.

“G’day Hando,” Boz said appearing at the bottom of the stairs.

“Yeah, g’day.” Hando had to look twice at him, he’d cleaned up and was sober holding a guitar case.

Boz Randall

“I’m off to work,” Boz said.

“Work, I didn’t think you worked.”

“Sure I do, work weekends I’m a busker, sing a little and pay the juice harp, how about you what do you do?”

“Nothing right now, I’m between jobs, I’m lookin’” Hando replied.

“Why not come out with me, there’s good money in Coffs.”

“I don’t busk besides I can’t sing,” Hando took another bite of cereal.

“You don’t have to sing, there’s jugglers, mimes, dancers all kinds.”

“Nah, not my thing I never busked.”

“Well don’t look down yer nose at us that try to make a honest livin’”

Boz left and Hando looked down at his empty cereal bowl. He was going to have to do something he couldn’t live on pawn shop money forever.