When you are drunk, there are people that will sell you food. John knew he would piss himself. It was a matter of time. And, on the corner, like a saving angel, was the gizzard vendor.
“Come on over here, boy!” The vendor yelled. He put the steamed gizzards in a plastic container. They smelled like shit, but the vendor had a permit. No one dared stop him.
“You want some, boy!” he said, his smile big and loving. “You want some gizzards!”
“Lord,” John said. “Yes.”
They were fatty and salty and disgusting. And to John, they were heaven.
***
Title by: Luca Giancristoforo
Story by: Jarvis
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