Press "Enter" to skip to content


“You have no one to blame but yourself”

She slammed the door on him and proceeded to watch her begin throwing his possessions out of the top window.

He shouted up at the window as he watched his items hit the floor “Mum, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, how many more times do I have to say it?”

“Get away. I’ll call the police on ya. Take your shit and go. I don’t give a fuck where”

“Mum, you can’t make me homeless near Christmas. Come on. It’s freezing out here. You’re making a scene” he stepped back away from the porch, pleading for her to let him in

“I’M MAKING A SCENE! ME! THE CHEEK” she crushed up a box of items she had pre-packed and threw it at him. He moved to the side.

“Mum, you’re being ridiculous”

“Ridiculous would be me letting you back in here, now go. Most of your shit is in there. You’re not welcome here Chris. You’re not welcome here.”

“Fine. Fuck you then mum”

Chris banged the door five times before he attempted to kick the door down. It was only at the last request did he understand that his mum had removed him from the house he had grown up in

She shouted further, “Take all your drugs, and your weapons, and your friends. And take it all elsewhere. I’m sick of it!”

His mum screamed through the door at him, “Get away! Chris, don’t make me call the police, you piece of shit”

Chris conceded defeat and left the premises. Carrying the crushed up items in the box, noticing his scales, blade and taser he has stolen off a policeman, he wandered the streets heading towards the markets.

He entered the market stalls and began selling all the items in the box. It was Christmas time, so everyone was looking for a deal. He made £400 in a matter of the time length of a football match.

“Lovely. Have yourself a merry Christmas yeah” he said to his last customer as he sold the last of his clothing

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and text his supplier

‘Meet me, market stalls. Ten minutes.’

His supplier was there in five. Chris was quick, handing over his money and taking a few bags off his supplier, spudded him and headed to the park

Chris found the play area in the park a stone’s throw from the markets and proceeded to smoke the supply he had just purchased. He stayed in the park until sunset and strolled the streets some more hoping to find some potential safe haven awaiting him at every corner. That was the weed giving him false hope. He found a corner to sleep on and dozed off. He woke up to find that his shoes had been stolen while he was asleep and wandered around even more onto the high street. A few people offered him a drink at 11am, Chris asked for a coffee and was given a beer by the locals. They assumed he was a drunk, and Chris decided to go along with it. By 3pm he had collected 10 cans of beer and despite having no shoes, he was content.

‘This beggars life ain’t too bad’ he thought to himself and began scheming how to make this into a hustle.