Gus shuts the blazer off, to save gas from idling. Gus strokes his stubble-covered chin, looking as though he is attempting to think up a saying that will add levity to Donny's plight. Gus isn't able to drum up anything, though.
    "Can you take me across town?" Donny asks, "over by that Pawn and Payday store?"

    Gus swings by Eugene's place. There is no car in the drive, but Donny knocks anyway. No answer. It's just as well. As previously discussed, Eugene didn't need Donny's bothersome presence as a roomy.
    Gus dropped of Donny about a block away from the pawn shop.
    Donny came up to the door just as Greg was leaving. Donnys scuffling feet seemed to spook Greg.
    "Hello?" Greg says cautiously.
    Donny steps forward from the neon glare of the OPEN sign in the window. Greg's eyes widen and his jaw slackens. Donny is a mess. The purple swelling has spread to around Donny's brown eyes, pinching his vision shut slightly. Donny wheezes as his air intake is interrupted by his crushed nose.
    "Oh my God" Greg says in a shaky voice, "what the fuck happened?"

    Greg ushers the bum inside. Donny gives a piecemeal explanation of what happened. He goes into detail mainly about how Whynzinger knocked him around. Donny does not mention the needle that was discovered.
    "They confiscated that sleeping bag" Donny says morosely,"and they smashed that heater on the ground. While I was laying there bleeding, they stomped on it until it was junk."
    Greg inquires about why the cops did this, but Donny is too tired to elaborate. Not knowing Greg's political affiliations, Donny is unsure if Greg would be for or against the occupy movement. Not that Donny was part of said movement.
    "What was the charge?" Greg asked.
    "Loitering and Tresspasing" Donny says, with a cynical smile,"Loitering, at a public placeâ¦Whatever, cops do what they want anywayâ¦They're the real crazy ones."
    "Do you think maybe you could," Donny begins,"I dunnoâ¦Do you have another space heater I could use? Not to keep, but just use for tonight maybe???"
    Greg uncomfortably shifts in his chair.
"I'm sorry Donny," Greg informs,"I sold the only other one I had."
"Oh." Donny says blankly.
    They sit in silence. Unbeknownst to Donny, he is resting in the leather chair that the mother also had taken a seat in, during the shootout. Right now it seems like a bad-luck piece of furniture.
    "I saw they boarded up the fence by the gazebo," Greg says, absently using his thumb to pick at one of his fingernails,"I guess you've got no place to go."
    Donny utters a low sound, which appears to be a yes, without the strength to affirm.
    "I tell you what," Greg offers,"I can let you sleep here tonight. There's a bedroom up the back stairs you can sleep in, and a shower as well."
    Donny succumbs to his optimism. Greg was an alright guy. Who else would offer their place of business up for a temporary stay? Nobody, except maybe for Ben.
    "The only catch is, you'd basically be trapped in the store. You couldn't get out because the doors lock from outside. But I guess that would mean you won't run off with anything while I was away."
    "that's fine" Donny says quickly,"I don't have a problem with that. I won't steal, I'm not a thief."
    Donny lies about this. He has stolen before. He will steal again.
    The two men head upstairs. Donny is directed to the shower. It has been far too long since Donny has bathed. His clothes could stand up by themselves, if he threw them in the corner.
    "If you wash up, you can wear these." Greg says, handing some older clothes that no longer fit,"There's a washer and dryer downstairs you can use to clean those ratty clothes of yours.You're quite a bit smaller than me, so you'll probably have to use the smallest notch on that belt you can find"
    Donny is overcome. This man, Greg Jefferson, is a sovereign figure in Donny's eyes. The endowment given by Greg is more valuable than gold or silver, at least to Donny. Destituation has laid claim to Donny, yet Greg reaches out to him, a king offering aid to a peon.
    "Just don't make me regret this," Greg says simply.
    "I understand" Donny replies with utmost seriousness.
    "I'll stop back tomorrow morning" Greg says, zipping up his coat,"I need some help with a job, and you can earn some money doing it."
Without further ado, Greg turns and trots down the stairs.
"Good night Donny" Greg calls over his shoulder.
"Good night, Greg"

    Donny put his disgusting clothes in the washer. Hopefully the dirt and uncleanliness that were built up on his threads wouldn't leave a ring around the washer. Donny was aware of how bad he smelled. Public bathrooms allowed him to tidy up every so often, but it couldn't eliminate the stench of ass that came from the rear of his jeans. It was the dirtiest orifice on the human body, and usually the first thing people detected when in Donny's general vicinity. Donny sometimes scrubbed his junk in the public restrooms, but one time a patron had walked in on him, and it appeared as though Donny had his hand down his pants masturbating. Donny had digressed from such grooming since then.
    Donny took a shower for nearly an hour. It felt awesome. His grimy brown hair was now silky smooth, compliments of Greg's combination shampoo/conditioner. All that freshness in one handy bottle. Donny lathered his body with soap, especially the armpits and crotch. This shower might be his last indefinitely, so Donny tried to make it count. Donny stopped bathing only when the hot water ran out. He dried himself on a towel from the rack, and then got dressed.
    Donny took a few slices of bologna and cheese from Greg's fridge and made two sandwiches. Feeling somewhat guilty afterward, Donny commits to tell Greg he took the food. Donny didn't have a pot to piss in, but knew Greg wasn't that far behind in terms of earthly goods. Being in Greg's domicile was a rare thing, considering that Greg knew Donny to be a former drug addict. Donny would completely understand if Greg had balked at Donny staying there. After all, what was more distressing than letting a junkie into your home? But, it was Greg who actually offered the overnight stay to begin with. Donny wondered if Greg was naive. Having lived in California, Greg should know by know how unsavory druggies can be. Rather than continue the debate over Greg's hospitality, Donny heads to bed.
    Donny found it near impossible to sleep. When lying on his back, his swollen facial features blocked the airway in back of his throat. He woke up several times nearly choking. Lying on his side was a little better, but that made the blood catch in his glands, making his nose throb painfully. Fucking gravity. Stupid drainage and circulation.
    Feeling helpless, Donny got up to take a piss. As his stream of urine showered the bowl, Donny glanced around at the bathroom. Donny shouldn't complain about his accommodations, but the place really was quite dirty. Unclean clothes were swept aside into a corner. Various fast food bags cluttered the few scraps of furniture upstairs. It was evident there hadn't been a woman's touch in this place for a long time, if ever. Donny felt sorry for Greg. The guy needed to get laid bad. Greg's pain was evident as he spoke. Loneliness came through his voice like subliminal messages. Donny can only guess this is why Greg is allowing Donny to stay overnight. Could it be that Donald Grieves is Greg's only buddy? Now THAT was really sad.
    Was Greg right in trusting Donny? Considering that Donny cannot exit the store because of the lock, it settles the issue of trustworthiness somewhat. Donny couldn't very well thieve if he had no methods to escape. It wasn't like he was gonna make off with anything anyway. Right?
    Donny opens the medicine cabinet. He was searching for some aspirin, or ibuprofen, maybe even a anti-inflammatory medicine. Finding neither, Donny opens a package of band-aids and applies the white-colored adhesive strips to his fingers. His hands were rough and sliced to ribbons in some spots. Donny didn't have any recollection how it happened, but assumed it was from the bum purge at the city park.
    As he puts the band aids box back, Donny sees the amber-colored pill bottle and stops dead. From the vantage point, the bottle is turned slightly away from Donny, but the contents on the label can still be read. He only catches the 3 letters, but it's enough:
OXY
    Donny's hand trembles as he lifts the bottle from it's perch on the shelf. Greg Jefferson. Oxy-Codone, 400 Mgs.