The camera changes to a new scene. Kevin is spanging on the sidewalk. One passerby gives him some spare change. Paul walks by carrying a six pack of beer, takes one off, and throws it to Kevin, and keeps walking. A homeless bum is asleep on a park bench nearby. They are outside of the park. The camera finally goes inside of the park, and shows Gunner and Rachel talking.
RACHEL: So, what does "oi" mean?
GUNNER: Oi? It's what we yell into an abandoned building when we enter it, and then if we hear oi back, it means that another squatter is there. It helps us know whether crackheads or cops are going into the squat.
RACHEL: If it's another squatter, does that mean they can stay there?
GUNNER: Not necessarily. It just let's one squatter know that there is another squatter there.
RACHEL: It opens up a median of communication?
GUNNER: Essentially, yes. It does that.
RACHEL: That's interesting.
GUNNER: Eh, I don't think so. You investigate any culture and you'll find that they have their own words or slang applied to necessary things.
RACHEL: You've lived with it all your life, so maybe it's boring to you. But to me, when I learn about a culture, one that I live with side by side everyday, but never was educated about, I find it vastly interesting. I'll tell you one thing, I'll never look at abandoned buildings as lifeless again.
Rachel smiles at Gunner.
GUNNER: That's right... It's teeming with degenerate life forms, high on crack or drunk as fuck.
RACHEL: There's no need to disguise virtue as crime.
She smiles again.
GUNNER (smiling): You sarcastic son of a bitch.
Gunner lays his head on her lap.
GUNNER: So much booze, so little time.
RACHEL: When I saw you today, you looked a little wobbly walking... I was gonna ask you if you were drunk, but your speech is so slurred and your breath was wreaking of vodka, that it was unnecessary.
GUNNER: If you're trying to say you want to have sex with me, you're definitely going about it the right way.
RACHEL: Ha! You're ridiculous!
She smiles at him.
GUNNER: How come you don't drink?
RACHEL: Well, I find other ways of using my time.
GUNNER: How so? Mowing the lawn, paying taxes, and finding time to cheat on your current boyfriend or husband with the guy across the street?
RACHEL: Nah, finding time to cheat on my boyfriend never takes that long.
GUNNER: Ah, so you do have a boyfriend! Ha, ha, ha!
RACHEL: I think the rule is, you subtly make a reference to a boyfriend or husband, wait for the reaction, and then celebrate inside your mind without speaking.
GUNNER: Oh, yeah....
Gunner hums "Hmm Hmm Hmm" under his breath in the same tone he said, "Ha, ha ha!" She starts touching his ear, his hair, and the side of his face.
RACHEL: Actually, I don't have a boyfriend.
GUNNER: Oh, well, in that case...
Gunner turns over so the back of his head is on her lap (as opposed to the side of his face being there).
RACHEL: You know, I like you...
GUNNER: Because I'm an interesting gutter punk?
RACHEL: No, not that... That's just part of who you are. You're honest, though. It's something that's very hard to find in this world, and I find that much of the misery I experience comes from dishonest people.
GUNNER: Right, but it's more prevalent on the underground. Kids rip each other off for cash and drugs. It sucks that we have no other way of maintaining ourselves, except by begging or stealing. That's why we all support a workers' revolution. Anyone who doesn't is either blind or fucking stupid.
RACHEL: I wish that the injustices of society could be remedied by one of the existing philosophies. I'm just not sure that it's possible.
GUNNER: It all depends on the spirit of the people, if they're going to let themselves be fucked over by government and corporations, then we will never win.
RACHEL: For as much as people think of the homeless as being stupid, you're quite informed and your opinions are reasonable... If anyone at my office heard you talk like that, they'd either think you were a politics major or a unionist.
She smiles at him.
GUNNER: I would like to be a unionist one day. Threaten the boss with strikes, and he would take us seriously, because if there is one thing we're good at, it's not working, and enjoying ourselves at it.
RACHEL: So why not be a unionist?
GUNNER: Because... I hate work, and I can get everything I want or need through homelessness. Besides, my culture would change. Slowly, I would accept things that my circumstances forced me to accept.
RACHEL: It's only eight hours a day, and then you won't have to worry about being arrested for where you sleep at night.
GUNNER: It's just eight hours a day, and my soul! I would get up at eight o'clock, shower, shave, apply deodorant, maybe some cologne, put on a three piece suit and necktie, go to work on fucking disease infested public transportation, and then slave for eight hours, only to return home, where I have lost my willpower and my strength.
RACHEL: I don't think you would ever get a job that requires a three piece suit, though maybe some uniform like a gas station outfit or fast food restaurant uniform.
She smiles at him, and he smiles back.
GUNNER: If I wanted a mohawk, they would fire me. If I wanted piercings, I would get fired. If a customer complained that I didn't have enough cheerfulness in my greeting, I would have to suck his cock and say, "Yes, sir."
RACHEL: Well, you could still feel the way you do, without the culture of revolution, you would have its spirit.
GUNNER: No, because it would be nine o'clock at night, and I would be getting ready for bed. I'd turn on the television, and ingest the propaganda, because by then, that's all I had the strength to do. I would be worried, when I turned out the lights, of a burglar, and the only time I ever felt safe in the city, would be next to a police officer. I would have to spit at people who ask for spare change, because I work damn hard in this life to be miserable, and they should, too. Fuck, ten year olds being homeless? I would never believe that. I'd just be another yuppy, fashioned by the media and my job into the person I was.
RACHEL: We aren't all like that. You shouldn't judge before you know.
GUNNER: I was judging on what I knew.
Rachel's fingers are still gently going through Gunner's hair.
RACHEL: I suppose you would know somewhat, since you interact with everyone on the streets.
GUNNER: To a certain extent.
RACHEL: You know, not everyone is the way you described.
GUNNER: Some are more willing to insult the homeless, others are more willing to help them. Some will talk to us, others won't acknowledge that we exist.
RACHEL: Well, I suppose that's just what comes out in our actions from our thoughts. As much as my job has molded me, I still feel like I'm a good person.
GUNNER: I guess it's possible.... It could happen.
RACHEL: Aw, come on, don't be like that...
GUNNER: Yeah, I know, you're awesome. Particularly so that you have a job and all that.
RACHEL: The cool yuppy, huh?
GUNNER: Nah, you're not a yuppy, you never will be. It's really a mind set, about thinking of life as a game, and the contestants being judged on the property they gained throughout life. The one with the most wins. And yuppies just play as hard as they can, getting good results by playing the system, and placing all their bets on who will win. As long as you don't play their game, you won't be one of them.
RACHEL: What if I work at their work?
GUNNER: Only a five point deduction.
RACHEL (smiling): Oh, yeah?
GUNNER (smiling): Yeah... disagreement with that will result in an additional two point deduction.
Kevin ambles over.
KEVIN: Hey you two... I got magical substance.
Gunner sits up.
KEVIN: Survey says! Yes! I do have alcohol!
Kevin opens a pint of gin and takes a shwill. He passes it to Gunner, as he wipes off the gin that spilled down his chin. Gunner takes a shwill.
RACHEL: Ugh, that stuff is so horrible tasting... You guys really are alcoholics.
GUNNER and KEVIN (together): We're not alcoholics! We're drunks!
They high five each other.
KEVIN: Wh00, gimmie some more.
GUNNER: Hey, hey, it's Rachel's turn.
RACHEL: Nah, I don't think I want to.
GUNNER: Come on, it's free!
RACHEL: But I have work in a half hour.
KEVIN: See! The reasons to drink are piling up!
She looks to them both, smiles, takes it, and shwills it, tipping her head back really far and really fast for it. And then she hands it back to Gunner, who points to Kevin, who takes it from her hand (it's his turn, she didn't understand that). They both clap.
GUNNER: Whoa, I thought you would cough.
She coughs and clears her throat then.
GUNNER: Heh, you handled better still, than at least fifty other people dressed up in suits.
RACHEL: Thanks.... I like to think that I can hold my liquor.
KEVIN: Good girl. That's a virtue among our people.
RACHEL: Is it really? (smiling)
Kevin takes a shwill, smiles in the middle, and hums, "Mmmmmhmmmm...." Gunner takes the bottle and takes a big shwill, coughs a little and hands it to Rachel, who shakes her hand at it. He passes it to Kevin. Gunner lays his head back on Rachel's lap on the side of his face, placing the palm of his hand on her thigh.
KEVIN: You know, this isn't what I do normally, Rachel.
RACHEL (smiling): Oh? You mean being homeless?
KEVIN: Right. I own a book store up the street from here.
GUNNER: Quit lying, you fucking Bolshevik.
KEVIN: No more gin for you!
GUNNER: (sarcastic) Nooooooooo.....
KEVIN: Okay, you can have some. I wouldn't want to put a brother in distress.
GUNNER: Bah! I'm in distress in this world -- I need alcohol to get me out of it.
KEVIN: I fucking can hear that.
Rachel watches the dialogue between the two with some amusement.
GUNNER: Ugh, dude, did you know that Pops use to mix milk with gin?
KEVIN: You want me to fucking puke, man?
GUNNER: God, it's like, it's so horrifyingly disgusting, but I still know deep down, that I would only have to be sober for 17 seconds before I drank it.
KEVIN: Right. Alcohol's not going to go to waste while I'm around! Not on my watch!
RACHEL: (smiling) Are you two brothers?
GUNNER: Street brotha's.
KEVIN: Together we stand strong, through every hardship, every pain, every misery. When I wake up and am surrounded by broken bottles, I know that we both helped to kill them off. Just another merit badge to our alcoholism.
GUNNER: As you can see, he's the more poetic, artsy type.
RACHEL: Say, are you guys hungry?
The camera clicks and then it shows Gunner eating a hamburger and Kevin and Sweep sharing a large French fry, as Rachel crumples up a paper bag of McDonald's.
RACHEL: Well, I really have to go... My lunch break is up in say, oh, negative five minutes.
GUNNER: Okay... Want to hang out later?
RACHEL: Ha! Actually, I would really like that.
GUNNER: I'll meet you here at the park at....?
RACHEL: Six o'clock. I'll see you here.
He hugs her.
GUNNER: Thanks for the food and the company. I hope work doesn't suck as much when you return.
She kisses him on the cheek and is off. He looks at the ground, looks up, and smiles, still looking in her direction as he walks towards his comrades.