Desperation Registers at Motel to Homeless

"I have up until Friday. I'm going to have to get an extension. I have to have it. Last night they threw out some people. He was here a week or so. He didn't have a car to go down to that place on Van Nuys Boulevard. They kicked him out. A beautiful wife, a baby. They were right there on the steps last night."

He jumped up and opened the door again.

"I will not die like this," he said. "It's just tough. It's degrading. I can't take this crap. I read my Bible. I read it all the time, and I'm going nuts here."

He said he once worked as an employment counselor and a construction worker. Now, he said, his health keeps him from working.

"My stomach hurts," he said. "Ulcers. High blood pressure. I'm basically dying. At least the way I feel I am.

"I know what I want out of life. It's tough. But I have to. I have to. You've got to wait and wait and wait."

He filled the glass again. But instead of drinking he crushed the glass in his hands.

"It scares the hell out of me. What I'm trying to do is help myself.

He cried again.

"Stop that," he yelled. He stopped it.

He closed the door again.

"God, I want it," he said. "I want it so bad. I'm scared as hell. I want help."

Finally his guest got up to leave.

"Doug, you're not going, are you?" he asked fearfully. "Stay a couple more minutes."

When he could see he was going to be left alone, he stood up. He straightened his shoulders. But they sagged again. His knees hinged and he rocked back on the corner of the bed.

"Am I going to die, Doug?" he asked, staring up.

Then he was alone, sitting on his bed, looking out the window. The door was open.