What Happened to the Crackheads?

Is the world coming to a fucking end? Am I losing my shit? Is that a Pringle on the floor? Hmmmmm, maybe the last question doesn't apply, but seriously, where the hell have all the crack bums gone? I realize that we are in the middle of January, but it has been unseasonably warm here in Milwaukee so they haven't frozen, and even if they did I'm sure I would have seen a few bodies laying around the street. I don't think they hibernate. Crack has a tendency to make them all jittery and keep them awake forever, so there is no way that they have been sleeping since November. So what the fuck?

You are probably wondering why, Michael, do you give a flying fuck about the toothless vagrants that wander your neighborhood and ask you for money? Wait, you're not? Are you sure? Really? Oh, no, that's cool. Not a problem. I'm going to tell you anyway, though.

Crackheads are nature's way of saying "it could be so much worse." I mean, everytime I am asked for "bus money" I smile a little bit inside before telling the bum to get fucked. I'm actually starting to get crackhead withdrawals, which leads me to the next logical conclusion: Crackheads function as a form of crack for me. I need to see these walking piles of worthless to reaffirm my validity. Or something like that. Well not really, because crackheads don't validate my life, but goddamnit I miss seeing the toothless grins and smelling the diseased bastards from blocks away. I miss them, and to show how much I want them back I have written a letter to all of the crackheads in the neighborhood or 24th and Wisconsin in Milwaukee.

Dear Crackheads,

First of all, I would just like to let you all know that your presence has been greatly missed over the last 2 months. Where have you all gone? I know for a fact that the homeless shelter has not taken on more degenerates like yourselves, and even if it did you have to leave during the day. Where oh where have you all run off to? Is there a shortage of crack in Milwaukee that has forced you to seek your fix elsewhere? If that is the case, please, let me help you to procure your white rocks. I'm sure we can work something out. You guys have become like brothers to me. Brothers that I would never admit to having. And who I would disown. And probably beat with a stick. But brothers, nonetheless. So, my cracked out brothers, please come back. I'll give you all of the change in the ashtray of my car. I'll even give you a dollar. A whole fucking dollar! Can't you see what you are all fucking doing to me?!?! I am so torn up inside, I cry myself to sleep at night thinking about the times we had when you would stagger up to me and demand money and I would reach around in my pockets telling you to wait before smiling and saying "nope, now get lost asshole." Can't we return to the days when you would sit outside my apartment and wait for me to leave for work? How I long for the times when I would be walking home from class and I would see eight of you within a ten block stretch. Please, crackheads, come home to me. I need you. You complete me.

-Michael

If that letter doesn't bring them back then I don't know what will. I'm all out of ideas here. I've tried nothing and I can't think of anything else to do. What a truly tragic life I lead. All of my crackhead friends have deserted me.

Come back crackheads. Please?