| Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3 |
I have some sort of disease that I can’t pronounce, and I don’t like to talk
about it. They diagnosed me at the free clinic because I was having these
phantom pains all over my body. They say it’s neurological. Or I should say
that they said that, because I don’t have it anymore. Yeah, I heard
about this Tipton fellow, and didn’t think it had anything to do with me. Why
would they take some raggedy aging woman who lives on the streets? I mean, I
didn’t even get that far in my thinking. I heard the news on the radio,
shrugged, and then moved on with my life. A few years later, I was sitting in
the park, which I do every Tuesday, because that’s when they water the plants,
which soaks the soil, which brings up the worms, which brings down the birds.
I know, I’m a bit of a stereotype, but who doesn’t like birds? Anyway, I was
just sitting there when this social worker comes up and tells me about a
program which assists unhoused people in applying to be healed at the
Foundation. I said, “you’re crazy. We live in Denver. How the hell am I gonna
get all the way out there anyway?” He said that they offer transportation too.
I asked him what church he was with, and he said none. This is just something
the city wants to do to help out. I was, like, “okay. Sign me up. Literally!”
Then I laughed, and he laughed too. And wouldn’t you know it, they actually
followed through on their promise. Now, I don’t wanna sound too cynical, but
you know how cities feel about their homeless. I’m sorry, you’re supposed to
say unhoused these days. You know how they feel about their unhoused.
They don’t like ‘em, and they wanna get rid of them. And sometimes what they
do is just bus them out to a different area. I don’t know, maybe that was
happening here too, but the Foundation is a real thing, and my application was
real too. They gave me a burner phone so I could get my information, which
told me where to go, and when to be there. I sat in the room, and I waited in
line, and this kid breathed on me. But it doesn’t stop there. After I left the
room, they guided me to a cashier, or whatever, who gave me money. They set me
up with a special card that’s specially designed for people without easy
access to a normal bank. I haven’t had a bank account in fourteen years and
don’t trust them anymore. I thought they were joking, but dammit if I didn’t
end up with $18,000 dollars all for me. Can you believe it? They paid me to
take the cure. These people are nuts. Not one to look a gift horse in the
mouth, I kept my mouth shut, and walked away with my card. I never went back
to Denver, because there’s nothing there for me. I got myself some affordable
housing, took a shower or two, and now I’m currently looking for a job. Let me
know if you know anyone who wants to hire a 54-year-old formerly unhoused
woman who still doesn’t have a car, but did once work as a secretary for a
plastics manufacturer. This new money is great, but it ain’t gonna last
forever.
