Hitting Bottom

By Ryan Scott

This story depicts the plight of a homeless paranoid schizophrenic man who finds love with a stray dog.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ryan Scott
• Release date: Sep 30, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370858712

Ryan Scott

Ryan Scott is an aspiring game writer who is currently pursuing a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Creative Writing from Full Sail University. He enjoys writing for fantasy RPGs, adventure games, and fictional dramas. He has had a short story published online in the Scarlet Leaf Review and is also a former actor, with credits in the television show “Monk” and Nickelodeon’s game show, “Brainsurge.” Ryan is a cancer survivor and has a Horde tattoo on his right shoulder. He writes to inspire others, just as many of his favorite games have inspired him.

Book preview

HITTING BOTTOM

By Ryan Scott

About the book:

This story depicts the plight of a homeless paranoid schizophrenic man who finds love with a stray dog.

Ryan Scott holds a Ph. D. in psychology and lives in Austin with his guide dog, Chaucer. Other books he has digitally published include: Relax and Go Limp, Matter of Attitude, Ella, Realty Riches for Cowards, The Amazing Dr. Mulfinger, Penny Fishbound, Dogs Are Better than Women, Off Center Poetry, and Darkness, the Secrets of a Blind Psychologist.

Chapter 1

I used to play golf when I was a kid. Our father would get Otis and me up early on Saturday morning for 18 holes. Back then I was pretty good, but not now. People talk and laugh about me, but they don’t show themselves. I’ve complained to those so-called psychologists, but they don’t believe me. What do they know? They look at me friendly- like, and then they lock me up. Damn them!

Someone yells at me. Hey you! Get off your ass and get off the fairway before you get hurt.

I don’t like to be bossed around, but I get up and walk off the cool grass. The sidewalk burns my feet because the Mexicans stole my shoes. Whenever I wake up in the park, they’ve done it again. Damn, it’s hot, and I’m hungry.

I walk down Liberty Street in the shade towards East Woods Park. Maybe someone threw some of their lunch away, part of a sandwich, an apple core or chicken bones with a little meat left. I get most of my food from trash cans and dumpsters. I never know what I’m going to get, but if maggots are crawling on it, I leave it alone. My favorite dumpster is behind the pizza place. Sometimes when they close, they throw out a whole pizza. It hurts to chew with my bad teeth, but I manage.

A man with white hair with a white cane is walking towards me. I think he’s pretending to be blind. He stops in front of me, but I look away. I don’t like strangers.

He says, Hey pal, where are your shoes?"

I say, "I thought you were supposed to be blind?

He gives me a sly smile. I’m partially sighted.

I knew he was faking. Maybe they sent him to spy on me.

Where’s your shoes? he repeats.

The Mexicans stole them, I say and edge backwards.

Well, I’m sorry to hear that. This rocky road must hurt your feet. I have some spare change. Here take it, he says and hands me some coins.

People often give me money without my asking, but they always have some damn suggestion. They don’t like my long grey beard or my dirty hair. If they didn’t have a nice bathroom to wash up, they wouldn’t look so good either, but I don’t like to waste my time showering and shampooing. In the hospital, they forced me to do that. They wanted me to brush my teeth everyday and keep my clothes clean. Now, they can’t boss me around. Who gives a shit about hygiene anyway? My brother, that bastard who thinks he’s so smart just because he’s a surgeon, used to lecture me all the time. Fuck him.

What’s your name, the stranger asks.

I don’t like to let people know about my business. They could use it against me. They always do.My shadow is hiding, I reply.

What? he asks, looking confused.

I don’t like the way he’s studying me. Spies always act like that so I just walk away.

A dog begins to bark, and then other dogs join in. I don’t know why they always bark at me. I used to have a little dog when I was a kid, but I’m not sure about his name. Maybe it was Lucky.

At the park I see some people barbecuing with a bunch of little kids making a lot of racket splashing in the pool. The smell makes my mouth water.

I go to the bench by the tennis court away from those families and sit down. When they leave, I’ll check the garbage can for anything they might have thrown away. A young man wearing white shorts walks over to me and hands me a hamburger.

"Here, I thought you might like it. We have