The Garneau Block by Todd Babiak Read Free Book Online Page A

am.”
    Barry lifted one of the magazines. “New issue, still toasty from the press. You ready to be educated?”
    â€œI guess so.” David sighed and took five dollars out of his wallet. Whenever he read the street magazine, it annoyed him. The articles were almost always poorly written rants about the Klein government, blaming hard-working public servants for the writers’ own personal shortcomings. “Did you contribute anything for this issue?”
    â€œPage sixteen. Do you and the little lady shave Garith so he looks like this?”
    â€œNo. It’s natural. The Chinese Crested dog was originally bred for–”
    â€œThat is effed-up, man.” Then Barry did one of David’s least favourite things in the world, more loathsome than the New Democratic Party. Barry said to Garith, in a cartoon voice, “Who’s the effed-up puppy? Who’s the ugliest dog in Alberta?”
    For a moment, David allowed the farce. Then, when Garith mistook Barry’s insults for praise and began licking the hobo’s mouth, it became too much. He reached over and took Garith back. “That’s cruel.”
    â€œAllowing good people to die on Alberta streets every winter is okay, fine, not your problem, their own damn fault, but talking crazy to an animal that doesn’t understand English is cruel? I said it before and I’ll say it again: you got comical views, David.”
    A tiny capsule of adrenaline burst inside David Weiss. He could pretend he didn’t love arguing with Barry Strongman, but he loved arguing with Barry Strongman. Here he was, the nephew of a chief, living on less than thirty dollars a day. Sleeping on the streets, in front of bank machines and in shelters. Why didn’t he get a regular job? Was he incapacitated in any serious way? Nope. Barry didn’t want a regular job, he didn’t want to live on the reservation, and that was that.
    David flipped through the latest edition of the street magazine until he found Barry’s article, an essay about peak oil. “Oh, come on, Barry.”
    â€œYour cushy western middle-class life is coming to an end, David. The oil is running out. And when the oil goes, so does our rich city.”
    â€œJust like the year 2000, when the capitalist system was going to collapse over a computer glitch. Baloney.”
    â€œJust read the article and try not to be scared. I dare you to try, David.”
    A group of five punks in dreadlocks and studded leather jackets approached with a golden retriever that looked hungryand desperately in need of a bath. Did she even have her shots? Garith stirred, eager to inspect the dog’s bottom. The punks smelled sugary, of last night’s booze. The leader wiped his nose and asked if David could spare change for a coffee. He was just about to tell them to cut their hair, wash their faces, and get proper jobs so they could take care of their dog when Barry handed over a toonie.
    â€œKeep on keepin’ on,” said Barry.
    The leader winked. “Thanks, brother.”
    David wanted to stand up and slap the punks. What was wrong with young people these days? The only looming crisis, as far as David was concerned, was a social one. When the light changed and the kids were halfway across Calgary Trail, he shook his head at Barry. “I know you’ve got your issues, being a mistreated Indian and all, but don’t enable those nasty kids.”
    â€œI’m a mistreated Aboriginal to you.”
    â€œWee-aww, wee-aww, pull over.” David formed a mock loudspeaker around his mouth. “Language police.”
    Barry made like he was going to splash his coffee at David, and both men sat back in their chairs to watch the pedestrian traffic on the avenue: video-game programmers and cooks and sellers of marijuana paraphernalia preparing for another day of commerce.
    The sun appeared, then hid behind a cloud, then appeared again. David pulled the