"Hey, Missus! Didjya hear? The United Nations has made 1987 the International Year of the Homeless Person!"
"Really? What's that?"
"What? A homeless person? That's us!"
"No. I meant, what's the United Nations?"
"You don't know what the United Nations is? Well, it's...umm, well, do you remember the League of Nations?"
"Of course I do. The League of Nations was a great idea that never seemed to work as well as it should have."
"Exactly. The United Nations is pretty much the same, only it has a bigger budget."
"Really? Nobody ever tells me anything!"
"Okay, forget about that. The important thing is: they've given us a whole year!"
"Gee, I don't know if I want a whole year. Couldn't we settle for three or four months?"
"You don't want to appear ungrateful..."
"True."
"Hey, didjya hear? The Pope has endorsed the International Year of the Homeless Person."
"Does that mean he'll let us live at the Vatican?"
"Ha! The next time I'm in Rome, I'll ask him."
Mr. and Mrs. Frump were huddled in a corner of a bush shelter on the corner of Renfrew and Main in a bleak corner of Ottawa. The snowstorm that raged outside had taken them by surprise; they rushed to the nearest shelter when the first snowflake fell, muttering obscenities about the vagaries of life.
The couple sat next to each other on the ground, covered by a comforter out of one of Mrs. Frump's bags which might, in a previous life, have been peach coloured. Outside, the wind grew fiercer and the snowfall thickened. Peering out of the glass, Mrs. Frump froze, then shrieked, "There's somebody out there! There's somebody out there! Don't let them get my China teapot!"
Mr. Frump looked out of the bus stop, but couldn't make anything out. He was about to say so when two small children, in their early teens, rushed into the bus stop, panting. One of the children clutched a shopping bag to her chest; the other, a boy, older, held her close in an attempt to keep them both warm. Their clothes had been slept in, possibly for several days, but hadn't yet started to fade. The two couples stared at each other, surprised and suspicious, for many a moment. Soon, the children took up the corner opposite the Frumps.
"Cold, isn't it?" Mrs. Frump suggested. She was trying to sound friendly, but years of talking mostly to herself had given her voice a demented quality that she couldn't completely get rid of, even had she been aware of it.
"Oh, yes," the girl agreed, shivering.
"Be quiet, Marie," the boy harshly commanded. "They're strangers!"
Mrs. Frump snorted. She withdrew a sweater from one of her bags and threw it at the children. "Wrap that around you," she cried. "It'll keep you warm."
They did.
"You been living on the street long?" Mr. Frump asked. When no answer came, he continued, "Probably just ran away from home. You're lucky you found us, you know. You could have met up with some really crazy people..."
Mrs. Frump cackled maniacally in agreement. For some reason, neither of the children felt reassured.
"The street is no place for youngsters," Mr. Frump went on. "Did you know that hundreds of crazy people are let out of their nuthouses every year with no other place to go?"
"You should listen to him," Mrs. Frump added. "He knows things - he sleeps on newspapers."
"Or, you could get mixed up with drug dealers or pimps or other people who would hurt you. I don't know what kind of life you had at home, but, was it really worse than freezing to death in a bus shelter?" There was no answer. The children, apparently exhausted, had fallen asleep in each other's arms.
"What are we gonna do?" Mrs. Frump asked.
"Hand them over to the police when the storm has passed," Mr. Frump grimly replied.
"You'd turn in children?" Mrs. Frump, shocked, asked.
Mr. Frump shrugged. "It may be the only way to get them someplace safe," he insisted. Mrs. Frump silently nodded.
"Were we like that when we were that age?"
"I didn't know you then."
"Oh. But, I could have started that way..."
"Come on, Missus. We've only been out here for eight or nine years. I reckon that would have made you...25 when I first met you..."
"Flatterer! Still...that's no life for a child."
"It's no life for anybody. Now, try and get some sleep."
