text: A little story by me. Enjoy. &#x200B; *Dave took another weary step forward, lamenting the fact that one the soles of his boots would need to be repaired with duct tape as it slipped off once again. He had just run out and was lamenting the fact that he would probably have to beg for loose change to buy a new roll. His clothes, though mostly kept clean, were tattered with wear and hung loosely to his body. As he glanced up into the overcast sky once more, a small raindrop splattered onto his face.* “Great..”, *Dave mumbles to himself,* “I just hope it doesn’t storm too hard again.. I dunno if my little shelter is gonna hold up. I need to hurry..” *He clutched the brown paper sack he had received from the care center even tighter to his chest, hoping the flimsy material could hold up against the oncoming storm. He was glad there were at least a few good people in this world., and he was excited for the first good meal in a while. He had lost much, but he was determined to never give up, and he was determined to get it all back no matter what.* *Life had not been easy for Dave since he had been lain off from his paycheck to paycheck factory job of 10 years. After liquidating all assets, his former boss and CEO had gone M.I.A. and he had never received the severance package he was promised. There was little work to be had in the small town he had lived in for most of his life, so he took his chances and moved on into the big city with little more than his determination and a pocket full of dreams. His naivety cost him dearly.* *By the time Dave had reached his rickety little homemade shelter, the storm had picked up quite nicely. He was relieved to see it was holding up well. It was a little hovel forged from scavenged wood, plastic, sheet metal, duct tape and bunjie cords from the dump nearby. Despite everything, he was quite proud of his work. He had placed it in the far back corner of a condemned vacant lot, luckily out of sight from the streets. He occasionally had to shoo away some other unfortunate tramp from the streets, but he was determined to protect the last thing he owned. He knew he would have to leave eventually, but for now this was home. Unfortunately for him, he had no idea how soon this time was to come.* *Unbeknownst to Dave, six police officers were stalking him as their prey, hot on his trail. One of the group had seen him trudge into the lot the previous day, and had decided to inspect it when Dave was not around.* *When the officer took sight of the little hovel, he sneered and spat on the ground in disgust. As far as he was concerned, Dave was no better than this pile of junk and garbage he was beholding. In his mind Dave was probably just another drunk or druggie, a problem lost in the system that he needed to correct. He thought about just destroying this hovel right here and there, but he knew that if he did he would have less evidence to take that bum in.* *He decided to go inform the other officers of his discovery, a cruel plan forming in his mind as he thought of every charge he could hit that bum with when he finally caught him. After all, who would care about a bum? As far as the officer was concerned, he was doing that piece of trash a favor by locking him up. The officers determined they would strike the next night after more observation of Dave, and then “justice” would be delivered.* *As Dave opened up the little makeshift door to his proud little hovel, the young pit bull he had rescued from the streets came bounding out in its excitement. He had found it on the verge of starving to death a few weeks ago in a back alley. It had been covered in battle scars and had been badly beaten. He figured it had been a failed fighting dog, and though he knew he could barely take of himself, he was determined to save this young pups life.* *At first he had been very wary of this pit bull, but after he had treated her wounds and nursed her back to a healthy weight, he soon found she was nothing but a bundle of love and affection. He chuckled as he noted that she was a failed fight dog indeed. He had grown very attached to her, given her the name Hope, and was overjoyed as he knew he would never be alone again, at least not for a while.* “Hey there girl!!”, *Dave exclaimed happily as Hope bounded up to him*, “There’s a sweet girl. I’ve got some good food, yes I do. You hungry girl? I-“ *Dave was interrupted as Hope suddenly whipped around and began to uncharacteristically growl and then bark. Surprised, Dave turned around himself to see six uniform clad officers bolting towards him, guns drawn.* “Freeze! Get on the ground!”, *They exclaimed, pointing the weapons directly at his head,* “Get on the fucking ground now!!” *In his surprise, Dave took a couple of steps back.* “He’s gonna run! Get him!!”, *an officer shouted. They charged him, and as 4 of them took him to the ground, Hope sprang into action. She ferociously barked and was about to take an officer into her jaws, but then Dave heard a sound that made his blood run cold. A gun fired. A single yelp, then a thudding of flesh.* “Hope!!”, *He yelled,* “You bastards!! Why did you do that? She was just trying to protect me! What have I even done? WHAT HAVE I DONE?” *As Dave shouted, he thrashed a little bit in his protest. The police officers would have none of this disrespect. They pulled out their batons and beat him until he no longer resisted. As they pulled up a now stupefied and bloodied Dave, they proceeded to read him his rights and read him his list of charges.* *Trespassing, assault on an officer, attempting to flee from an officer, animal cruelty, etc., etc. Dave knew he was innocent and tried to protest, but his words fell on deaf ears. He was placed in the back of the squad car and he thought that was the end of it and proceeded to weep. When he noticed the car wasn’t moving, he looked out of the window on noticed the officers destroying and trashing his proud hovel, and also trashing any semblance of personal property he may have had.* *His backpack, his sleeping mat, his battered cell phone, his clothing, his supplies, his food.. all of everything he had managed to desperately scrape from the bottom of the barrel, gone. Dave numbly watched on as any scrap of hope or emotion slowly left his usually optimistic self. He watched as the officers high fived each other while exclaiming they had “gotten another one”, and as the last dregs of any humanity left him, he laughed. It was more of a dry, hoarse croak of scorn and lamentation. If this was justice, if this was right, then from that point on he was determined to never try to be a part of it again.* *Dave had never been much of drinker, but decided that as soon as he got out the first thing he would do is find a bottle somewhere. He would steal it if he had to, and now his only plan was to seek that sweet oblivion. After all, there was no longer any justice, no longer any Hope, and no longer any reason for him to try to live. For the first time since he had become homeless, he now truly was lost in the system. He was just another bum now, and his sorrow was drowned out by the celebration of “Justice” the officers proclaimed before him. Once again, he laughed... and cried.