Cindra's Word Game V

The story continues. Enter if you feel the creative urge, every Monday at Cindra's.

So, if you remember, I am the veritable booger picker who couldn't bring that homeless hippie home. Well, my hubby and I decided that unless we could come up with 1,000,000 reasons why he shouldn't stay for a while, we'd offer him refuge for at least a month or two, as long as he was polite and remembered to put the seat back down. So, in he came and here's a bit more of his story.
He is called Portland. He got that name from the few real friends he found, when he was living alone in that city many years ago. He was barely of age to be independent when his much older sister, sent him foraging for food, to wander from grocery to grocery looking for the past the sell-by date giveaways. So, point is, Portland knew his way around the streets of that city. And once you know your way around one city, you know your way around them all.
So, one day a few years ago, Portland sets up a table to sell stuff in Baltimore city. He lures his patrons in with the newest and bestest video games around (he’s currently working a tip for information about getting advance copies of the new Gears of War for Xbox 360). This business of his means his day often culminates with a seat on a crate out back of the local GameStop with a copy of GameInformer that he'll read to stay hip and then add to his collection of books and other readable material.
Portland has no clothes but the ones on his back (PU!) but he sure has a lot of reading material. Over the lonely years, his bibliophilia has extended itself to magazines and any other readable material. In fact, he has even taken to writing the wall wisdom from public bathrooms on large pieces of cardboard and adding them to the collection too! We had to ask that he try to stack his reading collection in the basement more neatly, as the corners of those pieces of cardboard especially, made for a nasty tripping hazard. He was fine with that to my face, but I did see him flippin me the bird as I walked back up the steps. I guess he thought I was being pretentious, and maybe he was right. I thought it was cool of me to not make a big deal about him bringing large dirty pieces of cardboard into the house to covet as if they were hardback copies of rare classics, but Portland thinks these cardboard copies of bathroom talk are truly treasures. What with quotes like "I predict you are taking a shit right now and sweat has broken on your brow" or "Change your luck and call Amy for..." blah blah blah", who could argue with him?