Overpopulation :: essays research papers

It’s a dark, cold, rainy night. The wind chill can be compared to that of Arctic wastelands, only the rain won’t freeze and disappear upon contact to your skin, instead the freezing cold ice-rain pierces your flesh like a million needles. The cold doesn’t subdue. A dark, small, shadowy object can be seen scurrying across the unlit streets. This dreary atmosphere does Hell’s Kitchen in the New York ghetto no justice. Just the sight of steam rising from sewer grills, the sound of gunshots in the distance, and the smell of rotten fish makes this an unsavory environment to be exposed to. The shadowy object seems to be on a mission. Looking back and forth as though being hunted by a beast of great stature, the shadowy object makes its way through alleyways, dank streets, and eerie overpasses. Shivering with each step it takes, the shadowy figure looks worn and used out from a night of wear and tear, and appears to be running out of gas. The spectacle of shadow finds a vacant, long deserted, decrepit wooden box, and immediately finds it as a place of seclusion.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã¢â‚¬Å"So tired, how can I get home? I wish those gangstas never stole my bike† Thought Little Billy to himself, â€Å"Maybe Ill just sleep here for the night.† Just then, at that very moment in time, A dark looking man, wearing a black trench coat and boots, comes dashing down that back alley, running as fast as he could until he reached that wooden box, he suddenly came to a perfect stop about ten feet from Little Billy. Almost, as though paralyzed by fear, Little Billy just stares at the bizarre man with a petrified gaze. In return, the man simply stares back at the Belittled Billy, and hesitates before he speak, which seems like an eternity to one Little Billy. â€Å"Hiya!†, said the man, in a friendly tone of voice. Little Billy opened his mouth as though to speak, but only to get interrupted by a prudent mystery man. â€Å"Lemme introduce myself, I’m Jim Sinepson, and I’m a fellow street bum. What brings a nice little boy to these mean streets where homicide and illegal activity is prevalent?† Again, Little Billy began to open his mouth, hesitating and stuttering through sheer intimidation. â€Å"Well, I see that you’ve moved into this box here? Well, I’m not sure if this is the best box to spend your night in†¦ Yeah, my friend Bob was picked off here last week†