When I was in the Army, to support my motorcycle habit, I worked part time at a service station in a pretty rough suburb. It was all public housing and most of the residents were ex jaibirds, or families of jailbirds. Drugs, alcohol, violent crime, (I witnessed a murder in the same suburb a few years prior when I lived in an Army house there, and my wife befriended a little girl who was murdered by a pedophile a few months later) you name it, West Heidelberg was the epicentre of arse-holiness.
One of the regular scum-buckets was a scabby prick called Dennis. Dennis was a heroin addict, who was on a methodone program, but he'd score smack daily and then have the methodone for "Morning Tea". He was long term unemployed, and totally unemployable. Centrelink (the government welfare office) stopped giving him money because he would buy drugs but no food, so instead they put him on the "Meals on Wheels" program, meant for old people, and genuine invalids. Dennis was paralysed down one side after he attempted to commit suicide by shooting himself through the head with a .22 pistol. Sadly he used a low velocity slug and shot himself thru the frontal lobes which partly paralysed him, but just made him a bigger arsehole.
Dennis would accost my customers at the gas station, usually wearing his filthy hospital issue pyjama's, usually with his dicck hanging out. He would beg them for money, and scream abuse at them if they said no. He was a scary looking reptile, and he'd pick on women, because the local men were pretty hard and they'd punch schidt out of him if he tried it on them. He would then come into the shop to bum cigarettes, then realise that it was me, and leave very quickly. I'm a friendly guy, but I hated Dennis after he conned me into letting him use the toilet when I was new, where he proceeded to crap and pee everywhere but in the pan, and drop his used needle in the middle of it all.
I'd occasionally daydreamed about killing Dennis, he had a habit of limping down the middle of the road so it would have been easy late at night after my shift ended, but the heroin dealer across the road from the gas station beat me to it, and gave him a hotshot. I hate drug dealers, but I always had a soft spot for that particular drug dealer after that. I'm sure that there are "do-gooders" out there who'd consider Dennis a "victim", but Dennis was beyond redemption, and the world (or at least the residents of West Heidelberg) are better off, for his passing. Cheers, Terry.
