A Day in the Life of Isaac's Shoes

A Day in the Life of Isaac's Shoes by Yosef Iyov Shlomo

It was a humid morning in Wynwood, rain lightly drizzled as the sun still shone through white clouds. Rapidly fat drops of runoff from the gutter above, land upon Isaac's head stirring him awake. The ragged gentleman reached into a corduroy sports coat producing a pack of "305" Menthol filtered cigars & a "Booby Trap" matchbook. Slumped up against one of the many murals that decorated the alley walls, he struck a match & lit his smoke, taking a long drag before coughing out a large glob of phlegm.
"The Devils beating his wife.. angles cry'n" a harkened hoarse voice mumbled as he laughed & made the ASL sign for crying.
Just as the man was producing some stale fries from the pockets of his trousers, a seagull landed beginning to shreak lightly.
"Ham, good morning Ham, how are you this fine day!" Isaac said throwing the bird a fry then promptly noshing on a handful himself
"Still a little salty.. good stuff." he laughed into a coughing fit slightly choking.
Shortly after the bird flew away & the damp middle aged man rose to begin his day, pulling a suspender over his shoulder he started upon the normal routine. First he found a building which would let him use their bathroom, filling up a large thermos with water. Then the back of a bakery where stale goods were set out beside the dumpsters, a few other homeless gathered. As Isaac approached he heard arguing. Apparently one of the larger younger vagrants took it upon himself to hoard the bounty. Two others seemed blue in the face trying to sway the brute.
"Give us some of that food! Who do you think you are!?" a woman shouted.
"One hungry mother fucker that's who bitch!" Muffled out through cheeks stuffed.
"How 'bout I kick your fuc..." a scrawny teenage boys taunt's were interrupted as a brick from the side of the group flew striking the large man in the temple. The white of his left eye turned red as blood filled it & there was a faint cracking sound amidist the loud noise of contact. This ogre fell with a hefty thud.
"Holy shit I think you killed him!" Protested the teen.
"Eat and be merry!" Isaac said happily raising his hands in the air before taking a single banquet, then calmly walking off. The others panicked grabbing some food & running off. The woman was kind enough to anonymously call 911 for her once foe.
Our "hero" if you could call him that sauntered outside a museum, which had an erect glass penis in it's window display. Isaac didn't particularly care for the penis but remembered a painting inside of a multi colored man with an expression on his face that matched his soul. No longer able to go inside as he was merely a destitute tramp, he smiled all the same at the thought. He planned to shit outside there door one of these nights.
Around mid day you could find our character half dancing, hat outstretched in hand. Singing Leonard Cohen and reciting, Albert Camus as he begged. He himself did not know why but the people to him often were generous in their giving, "HaShem!" He would cry to the sky. He took his spoils to the "Golden Arches" as he often did, but not before stoping at "Alphabet Liquor & Fine Wine".
The temperature was 40° celcius, if Isaac's lips could sweat they would for now they be wetted by dry gin. He coughed, spitting forth dollops of sputum.
Half drunk Isaac slinked down one of his usual haunts, towards a group of college kids. Wearing the tightest jeans, as well as stylish non prescription glasses & graphic T's with memes on them.
"Hey old man! You back for some more?" The leader almost bleated
"Does a harp sooth a king?" Raspy Isaac exhaled ending the sentences with a cough
"Wha... You want cash or not jit?" One of the boys interjected
"Yea Ishmael! What you want me to do you fucking golem!?" He rebutted.
"Ishm.. you wack, look all you gotta do shove your fist in that fire ant bed, chug that hot beer, jump on my patio table & dance while we throw firecrackers at your feet." The leader demanded as he took out his phone & a Benjamin.
While the students recorded Isaac did all of the aforementioned, laughing maniacally at the ants, enjoying the hot beer, lastly preforming his best kazachok amidst the hot popping. Swiping the hundred dollar note as a neighbor came out to complain, our minstrel made a hasty get away.
The sun began to set as we find the protagonist of our story within a den of ill repute
"The usual Reb Isaac?" A soft, warm, plump, voluptuous, woman lilted as she slide the hundred dollar bill he gave her betwixt her thick thighs.
"Yes please!" He replied excitedly sitting on the edge of the bed facing her as she sit in a finely upholstered studded leather chair. Eyelids drooped half over the cloudy, scarred, bloodshot, misshapen eyes of the tramp. This kindly woman of the night read aloud poems, bible verses, and just the end of Asimov's works. When the hour was done she blew him a sincere kiss as Isaac never would let her touch him "For fear of spreading the sickness of shame." he would say. She parted ways with the vagrant, prepping for the usual clientele.
The moon shined brightly full as a mother's bosom. Isaac hummed "Mr. Bojangles" from the top of the MacArthur Bridge, which he took some time hoofing to.
"The only way to be a good leader is save your father from the underworld... I am sorry Abba" he mumbled ever so softly before violently throwing himself from the bridge. Time seemed so slow as he fell flailing. First courage, then regret & panic. Isaac was so angry with himself, angry at all the choices he made that lead him here, angry he chose to quit. The reflection of the lights combined with the sounds of the cars & the night merged into one pliant psychedelic landscape, to a score of "Moon River". Time froze almost as he only had but a few seconds to notice in the distance what appeared to be a ball of flesh hued in golden light, with many, many eyes dotting a spiral of arms & hands, it had four wings, four faces upon it's center, terrifying yet beautiful in its visage. With this a calmness washed over the tramp as he uttered his final words. "There is a bluebird in my heart!"
The surface tension of the water killed Isaac on impact, if not shortly after. This ended a day, the last day in the life of Isaac, atop the bridge rest his humble shoes.