The Holidays came and went like a perfect piece of ass. The Van Man felt satisfied and focused. More than he had ever felt before. It had become the year of Back to the Future Part Two and he would not disappoint.
Los Angeles had become too cold for comfort. It was the dead of winter. Van Man realized why it was called that. It was the time of year when the weakest of the homeless would die off. Weakened by their desire to eat. Weakened by their human need to be cared for. Frozen to death, starved and unloved. And unwashed. Gotta be strong to make it in this shit, he thought. He would not succumb. He had too much to do and too little time. Van Man promised himself that this year would be different. He would not allow the shortcomings of his past to take hold. As Pollock said, he would not allow the accident.
LA had given in to Old Man Winter and he was a bastard. The Van Man had a battle on his hands to begin the new year, but the coldness would not touch him. He was eternally warmed by the fire that burned deep inside him. And he had a van.