Tramp Chronicles: The Change

The change in Albert occurred over a period of time, I couldn’t put it in an exact time frame, but it is clear that these changes came about through a series of events. Albert was a character, but until now it was never clear what sort of character he was except that he was a character you didn’t want to get to know.
One of Albert’s favourite pastimes was begging on the high street, although he had clothes, food and shelter he liked to fit in with the other local tramps. On a day like any other, Albert was sitting on the pavement on the steps of Barclays bank, looking trampy and not smelling very wholesome, one might say he smelt less than halfsome. He was collecting his booty in a medium sized juice cup from a local fast food outlet, when a very old, somewhat crooked man walked past and dropped a tin of beans in Albert’s lap. This instantly infuriated him and he dashed the tin in the back of the old mans knees as hard and as fast as his superhuman tramp capabilities would allow him. The old man fell to the ground, but instead of him falling straight to the ground and flat on his face, he fell forward, his knees hit the ground, but then he rose back up in an almost elegant fashion. It was as though his bandy legs were made of rubber. He spun around on his heel and looked Albert dead in the eye: “Daaviiie”, he said in a strong northern Irish accent, “you’ve got a strong arm on ya, and a strong arm is what I needs”…Albert stared into the man’s face, with great intensity, half contempt, half intrigue. The man gave a wry smile and disappeared round the corner.
Albert got up and walked back to his abode, at this point in time it is impossible to say exactly what was going through his mind; was he thinking about how the old man was uninjured when Albert had clearly utilised his superhuman tramp capabilities on him? Was he wondering why this old bastard called him Davie? Or was he thinking about the beans and how he could have used them for his tea? It’s impossible to say, such is the mystery that is Albert’s mind.
On return from a hard days tramping, Albert met up with some associates of his, one a white man, middle aged, large frame, and a tough guy image if you would. Trevor Willis, the mad Scottish tramp, was yet another unsavoury character who had some form of unspecified dealings with Albert. Trevor was known for his aggressive attitude and violent outbursts, although family members may describe him as being a ‘BFG’ this is rather unlikely as the sort of personality disorder Trevor suffers from or in fact inflicts upon others is more inherent than an acquired ailment he uses to camouflage his soft nature on the mean streets of south London. Noted in the minds of many as a particularly dangerous tramp, Trevor rolled up and down the high street like he was always on a mission, some tramp mission but a mission none the less. He strolled onto the close with a can of tenants in his hand, giving Albert the “big man nod”, Albert responded with the same action and the proceeded to sit on the bench, the only bench on Fracas Close. If this bench was not inanimate and in fact had the power of speech, it would tell us the trials and tribulations of every bottom that graced its wooden splinters.