The Opener :Chapter One
The Opener: Chapter One
I had been to prison before and had no family to return to. My family had disowned me for doing my time. It wasn’t in society’s rules to welcome an ex-convict. Instead, society left us to rot after our silent death sentence.
I suppose I should give you my name. I’m not entirely sure if that’s the name I was born with. For this instant, let’s assume the name Richard Tandon is my real identity. In the prison, it wasn’t unheard of to change someone’s identity. Prison wasn’t someone’s fun house. It was a hell house. The wardens were the police, and the policing they did cruelly but well.
However, this story isn’t about my prison time, it’s about what happened after. Let’s get back to my wandering of the streets of Dallas, Texas during the middle of the day.
I was wearing a light blue t-shirt with blue jeans that were ripped at the knees. This tearing wasn’t intentional but my journey from place to place took its toll on the knees. Whatever the occasion for the wear on my clothing, I was sure to make myself somewhat presentable. I wasn’t the smelly wanderer most would expect of a transient. I didn’t have a home but that didn’t mean I couldn’t have good hygene. Did that really make a difference after all whether I was a transient or not?
Clothes don’t always make the man. My clothing may have had holes in it but I kept myself clean. It would be easy to assume that this was a difficult task but it really wasn’t. With pitstops and public bathrooms almost always within a few miles of each other, they were convenient at certain parts of the day. It was then I could wash my hair and body, making myself more presentable for the public. Either way, the public didn’t care. They were stuck in their own little world of perfection.
It surprised me how much perfectly useful item was thrown away by these perfect model citizens. If you’re curious what items I’m speaking of, I’ll tell you. I’m talking of the simple items that we all take for granted. These items range from toothpaste, toothbrushes, bar soap and many more.
For my supplies for bathing, I never had to look far. The simple things like almost empty toothpaste containers and unused toothbrushes were there at the right residence.
I recall on many occasions certain households where the kids were spoiled rotten. If the parent didn’t get the kid the correct character on a toothbrush, the spoiled rotten kid would throw a fit. Thus, the parent would get annoyed and throw it away in the trash. It was in the trash that I would find a toothbrush to use for the next six months.
For the care of my hair, I found shampoo bottles a bit easier than one might think. I cannot recall how many times I had thrown shampoo bottles away that still had enough left in them for one more washing. This may not be found every day, but the bottles could be found every couple days. This was enough time to remain presentable to the public.
The same scenario went with deodorant. The parts that break off the plastic top are usually thrown away or discarded while they’re still attached to the deodorant head. Whatever was left, I would use until it was completely gone. This would make a penny pincher cry, I’m sure.
Before my release from prison, it had never occurred to me that once I probably had the same habits. I promised myself I never would get those lazy and spoiled habits again.
I looked at my bag. My bag really was my jacket that was tied at the arms to make a bag. The bag held a spare change of clothes. Those clothes were a pair of one jean and shirt. The spare jeans were in better shape than the ones I was wearing, while the spare shirt had some holes in the front, showing it’s wear.
I’m supposing that this shirt was what I’d wore before I went to prison. Then again, who was I to guess that? I had been a long time in there. While part of my mind was sane, there was a part of me that had been neglected long enough that I no longer fit into society’s regime. Why would I want to be part of society’s regime when I had been betrayed by the very thing everyone takes for granted?
I also had my identification in my bag. The ID read that my name was Richard Tandon, a male of 24 years of age. The address of my old Texas address was scratched out completely. I had done this on purpose some time back. I don’t recall how far back since I don’t keep track of time anymore.
The address wasn’t important anyways. All that mattered was the can opener that I kept with my clothes and identification.
It didn’t take a genius to notice that I was comfortable with lacking so much. Some might call me ‘crazy’ for not wanting the rich house, the fancy job or the constant roof over my head. The way I saw it, the streets were safer than I was within the prison walls. I wouldn’t ever want to put anyone within those walls for no reason. Innocence is lost in prison too quickly.
I picked up the can opener from my bag.
The can opener’s round metal blade on the can opener was very rusted. Despite the coppery rust that littered the surface of the blade, the function stayed true to the mark. Every can it came into contact with was sliced open, it exposed the goods that were desired.
This can opener had a story too, which was very similar to my own. Although I knew it wasn’t living, I couldn’t leave it unprotected and without a purpose in the trash can I found it in. With it not being alive, I just couldn’t give the can opener a name. I simply called it ‘Can Opener’.
I can’t remember exactly where I’d found Can Opener. What I can tell you is Can Openers life was going to be extended with me. It had been abandoned too. That didn’t mean that we were both trash. We now lead different lives than before. Not everyone understood that.
When I’d been released from prison, I had began to wander the streets. I wasn’t particulaly lonely. To put it simple, I was a bit heartbroken and numb from what prison had sent me through. That’s hard to shake off, especially when no one is there to pick you up.
In an odd sense, the can opener shared the same experiences at me. Once, the can opener was a useful item that opened up sealed food. Now, it shared the loneliness with me as we traveled to new destinations. We were homeless separated but together we made a home. The can openers’ home had changed.
I noted how well tended the houses were as we passed. Each house was an interesting pattern of creativity, honed to the owners like. With every different color, textural design and yard design, I came to a conclusion. It was all a beauty contest of structures for the purpose of being the envy of their neighbors.
I immediately thought back to my family. We were once close, living in a house of similar like to those we were passing. After I’d done my time, that scene changed. No longer was I part of that family anymore. I was an outcast, meant to live alone with my shame.
Mixed emotions came from this sudden realization. As unwelcomed as these feelings were, I had to face the imminent fate of the life changing experience.
Naturally, I felt abandoned as I watched citizens exit their homes with smiles on their faces in the near noon light. They were so content around one another. Even the arguing siblings enjoyed themselves. This all changed when they saw me, a transient with ripped pants, a coat as a backpack and a solemn look on my face. It was hard for them to hide the fact that they’d spotted me; a stain in their community.
The family seemed apprehensive. The parents eyes seemed to bug out, making them look as owls for a short moment. They grab their children and pull them close. Like eagles, they watched me as I passed.
Behind the disgust in their eyes, I could have sworn that I spotted fear. How ridiculous this all was! It was absurd to consider that, at one time, I would have reacted just the same as them at the sight of the homeless man traveling alone.
They quickly pulled out their cell phones, dialing a number quickly. Was I really that scary? I was just walking, silently touring their garden of perfect harmony. Most likely they were calling the authorities. It was almost like I was a rabid dog walking through their yards.
Ignoring their panic, I continued walking. The way I figured it, if I continued on my straight path, I’d eventually reach my destination, wherever that place may be. The can opener and I would find it together.
OOC: If you wish to leave comments, they are welcome. As soon as i edit more of the story, i'll post it up. ^^