[ CW ] Either begin or end your story with `` In my pocket , there was a toothbrush and a human eyeball . ''

I do n't own much. In my pocket, there's a toothbrush. I sleep on the streets, in the woods, in dumpsters, maybe in a homeless shelter if a bed's open. I eat what I find. I got jumped a few hours ago. In the park after hours, just looking for a place to sleep. These kids busted my front teeth with a rock & I was down for the count. That did n't keep them from beating me further into the dirt. I could feel their hands going through my pockets & my jackets, one by one as they unzipped them. They laughed. 
 
 They got mostly everything. My old torn up wallet with $ 12.37 & a nearly destroyed picture of my ex-wife & daughter, Joan & Missy. My pocket knife. My dogtags from the 1st Iraq war. A little bit of dope. A little bit of weed. 
 
 But they left me my toothbrush. 
 
 So I sat there, in the dirt by the park path. Bleeding. Laughing. Holding a toothbrush. Sharpening it on the pavement. 
 
 The kids were drunk. They were n't hard to find. They were n't even sober enough to leave the park. Fucking miscreants, the lot of them. 
 
 I took down the first one with a quick jab to the eye. His eye popped out, impaled on my toothbrush, while his friends ran like hell. I took my wallet, dog-tags, & weed back from wounded drunkard while he bemoaned his loss of sight. I just left him there. 
 
 As I left the park that night, in my pocket there was a toothbrush & a human eyeball. 
 

