Broadway's Bloopers

Life’s cruelties and misfortunes plague those who lie at the bottom. Johnson was slung and stuck at that bottom with no chance of turning back. His persistent, digital affliction had eventually caught up with him once rent had been past due for too long; his belongings stripped away with his slippers as his sole comfort. New York City was a merciless place for those who wanted to live off the land, scraps being given in meager amounts where clusters of man’s undesirables and plague-carrying creatures skirmished underneath the glow of societal prosperity.

Surprisingly, Johnson had ended up in a luckier position than most; he had wound up behind the dumpster of a decently sized theater. This also meant that other like-minded individuals would gather in the same area. Johnson had to confront their group lead, Ella, and was given an offer that guaranteed survival. Every single night after hours of showings, he was given a rationing of popcorn with the many other homeless, slowly degenerating into an anorexic state before the sustenance of the leftovers would equalize to his metabolism. Each night could be hit or miss; good showings leaving him with crumbs and bad showings often piled with buttery, crunchy goodness.

This gamble eventually led to a dry spell for Johnson, weeks after weeks of quality entertainment and no resound source of feeding. A pit had visibly formed at his gut, twisting and churning for some kind of fulfillment in parallel to his feral mind. Suddenly, a strike of morbid genius had formed in the dead of night. Johnson stood at the mattress-side of Ella, looming over her with a scrap shiv. A fork was placed in the road of his morality.

By the next day, Johnson was fully satiated and the group was searching for a missing member.