Homeless assassins

Sometimes I think about the secret lives of homeless men. The hobo who came into the computer lab last week would be the ideal secret agent.

Think about it. He's got no family, he has no identity, he won't get homesick because the motherfucker sleeps in laundry rooms. Who would you want to send on a deadly mission: your 18 year old son or a drunk killing machine with nothing to lose?

Maybe all the hobos out there are secret assassins, living double lives.

Then I think about how hobos eat garbage and puke in public, and I think to myself, maybe not.

I work from 3:30am to 3pm, so leave a message while I hate myself for picking up so many sub shifts.

(Bad decisions.)

Looks like the Bourne series of books stole my idea before I even had it. Damn.