_Bobby Joe {Hobo}

[`gotanysparechange?HOBO]

B A S I C
Name| nobody really knows. He calls himself "Bobby Joe", and is more commonly known as "hobo"
Age| 34
Height| 172 cm
Gender| Male
Ethnicity| Caucasian, Born in England
Birthdate| 13 June 1974

Y O U
Class| Poor, low, Homeless. I'm not sure what youw ant to call it.
Intelligence: Fairly knowledgable, has been many places and seen many things. Not very intelligent when it comes tot hings like maths, or holding onto money and a job.
Talents && Hobbies: Wonderful story teller, awesome con-man, collects bottles and cans to trade in for money, pick-pockets
Clothing && Accessories:
A long, black dusty coat, old mangeled shoes with holes in the toes, vsible grey socks also with holes, A white formal shirt (although it is very dirty), Long brown pants, or ripped and stained jeans which are much too short.

A shopping trolley filled with various items, including cans and bottles. He owns a banjo, although a few of it strings have snapped, a harmonica, and an old teddy bear. He is fortunate enough to have salavged a thick, yet smelly blanket. He also owns many other trinkets that he as come by during his travels, including a dagger.

Tastes: The unusal, or forgotten things.

F A V O R I T E S
Book: The Tale of Peter Rabbit, from his childhood. Still has it.
Band: He enjoys any rock band, he only gets to hear it on the radio.
Place: Home, England.
Color: Grey
Food: Apples, fresh fruit and veges, although he can never afford it.
Drink: Coffee, although he can never afford it.
Activity: Raoming the streets
Out on the Town: he is always out on the town. Roaming, stealing, collecting, frightening old ladies.

P H Y S I C A L
Eyes: Brown
Complexion: Pale, dirty and smudged.
Teeth: Yellow XD
Hair: Brunette, messy.
Posture: Straight, although he has rather bad back pains in winter.
Most Noticeable: Well he's a HOBO! what do you thinks most noticable? Everything.
Extra:

M E N T A L
Aspirations: To earn quick money off various scams, or to be in a banjo band.
Flaws:
Oh so many.
Homeless, bankrupt, on the run, druggo, drunk, thief, con-man
Liar, exaggerates, disloyal, greasy, sleeze, creepy,
Strengths:
humble, kind-hearted -when- he- wants- to- be, good-at-getying-out-of-bad-situations, street wise, interesting, mysterious XD
Fear:
Jail, SPIDERS, emo teenagers
Habits:
Whistles, kicks rocks, spits, hums
Responsibility:
Extremely irresponsible. He will not fnish anythign he starts, wastes money.
Generosity && Confidence:
He is generous in nature, but has nothing to give. He is fairly confident, although he does seem to hind behind a mask.
Humor:
Once you get him telling some stories, you're in for a good laugh.
Attitude: Arrogant at times, especially in the face of law.

B A C K G R O U N D
Mother: Ira Estelle
Father: Roger Estelle (deceased many years ago)
Parents' Occupations: Army offier, housewife
Parents' Status && Relationship: Mother is widowed, has not seen her son for many years, yet loevs him dearly, waits for him to come home.
Parents' Residence: Somewhere in England

H I S T O R Y && GENERAL

"Bobby Joe" was born on the 13th of June 1974, exactly 34 years ago. His parents were strict, although caring people. They lived in a reasonabl sized home in England, surrrounded by rolling hills of green and grey blotchy skies. Bobby was Mr and Mrs Estelles first child, and only son. Ove rthe next few years the family would growin in number, adding two daughters to the clan. Their names were Freya, and Kirsten. The children grew up together, fighting, loving and learning. The sisters were always the smarter ones, but Bobby was faster, wittier and stronger than them.


The family was stable, the father earning income through his military work. He rose fairly high up in the ranks, and by the time Bobby was eleven Roger had taken control of his own squadron of troops. Roger had always dreamt of dying in world war 3, in a mighty battle of bravery. 3 weeks after Bobbys 12th birthday Roger was killed in a plane crash while training with the junior jet pilots.

This death rocked the family, and was probably what sent Bobby on his down ward spiral. He started acting up at school, becoming a delinquent. he was arrogant, and paid no attention to school. He got his first taste of drugs and alcohol on his 16th birthday, and hasn't stopped since. He barely managed to graduate from school, but they were glad to get rid of him.

Around this time was when "bobby" realised that he would have to start earning some money. While his mother loved him dearly, not oblivious to his drug and alchohol addiction - just turning a blind eye, and wished for him to stay home. But "bobby" didn't want to stay, and started traveling, performing and getting money anyway possible.

His travels took him far, over many continents. He lost contact with his family and friends, lost all his important documents. At first he gave up his demons, but later took them abck up. He could not escape them. So, he wasted any cash he earnt on them, and wandered the streets.

This is where he's ended up.
Will he banish his demons?
Will he earn some cash?
& more importantly,
How many old ladies can he scare today?

S A M P L E P O S T

&& This is incomplete, just an extract.

"See those kids over there?"

A rough voice whispered quietly against the hum of traffic. The owner of the voice was pressed up against an alley wall, head glancing around the corner. Disheveled mop of hair whipped around his grubby face as he pulled his head back around to face the opposite alley wall. The man sighed in an agitated manner, hands laying flat against the alley wall behind him, while his eyes focused own upon a small boy sitting cross-legged on the ground. Had the little piece of filth heard him, or was he being cheeky?

"I told you to answer me when I ask you a question"

The boy shivered, and made a small squaking noise. The man, Bobby, rolled his eyes, before grinning in a manic manner. Of course th little kid was scared, who wouldn't be in a situation like this? Lost and your only hope of finding your mummy was a dirty old hobo. Another squaking noise, and bobby chuckled quietly. Really, he truly did feel sorry for the kid, he had no idea why he found it even the slightest bit funny. With a groan he crouched down to the boys level, weary joints cracking omniously. For a moment no movement was amde, and a silence seemed to inacse the two people, alhough the steady noises of suburban life echoed around them. Bobby Joe, better known as 'the hobo' glanced at the young boys face. Eventually the young boy worked up the courage to lift his head and meet his gaze.

" Thats it, come on."

The small boy let loose a terrible frightened shriek as the man lifted him up by the arms. A small scuffle ensued, a bundle of flailing limbs VS a disgruntled and hungry hobo. After a few mild curses the man dressed in dirty hole ridden clothes took control, carried the boy over to a trolley and dumped him in it. The boy, sat quietly, subdued by his metal cage, and far more interested in the shiny objects littering the trolley confines.

"Don't touch my stuff, kid"

Wc- 345
baha you'll have to find out the rest of the story later. teehee. Sorry about any spelling mistakes - computers being a retard.

[infiniteAVERY]

Accepted.

Brilliant, by the way.
Completely original.
^^ Welcome.