As the business grows and more people discover the unique ingredients mixed into the food, Fungui comes up with a brilliant idea: to market himself as a helper for the homeless. His food truck, Le Gourmeturant, will begin offering leftover food—such as burgers, sausages, and buns—to the homeless at the end of each day. While this practice had always been part of his operations on a smaller scale, it was never officially announced or advertised on the truck or across social media. However, with the growing exposure and power of the internet, Fungui’s initiative gains attention.
Soon after, a startup called “Livin’ in a Tin,” founded by Eaplo Accommodations, approaches him. This company has created a few prototypes of tricycles equipped with mini container homes. These units feature a full living space, complete with a bed, running water, a sink, and a gas hob. According to regulations, any non-motorized tricycle that cannot exceed 15 mph does not require insurance and can be driven on the road without a license plate or registration, thus remaining within the law. Since Le Gourmeturant is licensed by the local authority to stand legally on the pavement at the corner of a pedestrian area, the tricycles can park next to the truck.
While there has been some interference from local residents, every time someone calls the police, the tricycle operators simply jump on their bikes and drive off leisurely. The police have no legal power to penalize them, as the tricycles are classified as bicycles, and there is no law preventing people from sleeping on their bikes or parking them on the road or pavement.
Eaplo Accommodations offers Fungui five tricycles on a trial basis, recognizing the positive impact Fungui is having on the homeless community. A small scene begins to develop around the food truck, with homeless individuals volunteering to clean the streets surrounding the truck and helping as volunteer waitstaff. In exchange for their efforts, they are given access to the tricycles and the opportunity to park near the truck, which provides electricity to charge their devices.
However, there is a significant problem that Fungui must solve: the special supply of ingredients that keeps the night-time visitors coming is running out. This supply is essential for maintaining the success of his operation, but since it is top-secret, sourcing it from suppliers could expose the business.
Fungui no longer has the physical time to collect the fungi himself, but trusting others with such a delicate task is challenging and requires careful consideration.
Fungui is working tirelessly, always brainstorming for a solution, until one morning at 4 a.m., a long-bearded homeless man arrives at the food truck and asks for some food. All the meat products—sausages and burgers—have already been given out, but there is one remaining bun with a handful of chopped-up mushrooms. Fungui offers it to the homeless man, who responds, “Whatever, man. I’m so hungry.”
Fungui quickly grabs an onion, chops it into small dice, and throws it onto the grill with the mushrooms. Within minutes, a hot sandwich is ready, topped with a touch of mayo. The homeless man is extremely grateful and says, “I love mushrooms, man. I used to collect them all the time before I lost my home and ended up on the street.”
At that moment, a lightbulb goes off in Fungui’s head. He begins to engage the man in a deeper conversation about mushrooms. Fungui, the self-proclaimed mushroom guru, starts asking specific questions, and to his surprise, the homeless man seems to have all the answers. Fungui is impressed and asks for his name.
“What’s your name, brother?” Fungui asks.
The homeless man replies, “I’m Balt Dimma.”
Fungui is thoroughly impressed and offers Balt a treat, which Balt gladly accepts. As their conversation continues, Fungui asks where he plans to sleep. Balt replies, “Close by, near the park. I have a mattress underneath a staircase.”
Fungui, feeling a sense of connection, says, “Look, man, I have one of these tricycle units available. The person who used it has moved off the street because they were offered a street advertising position by eaplo.co , and now they can work and rent a box room in a shared house. You’re welcome to take it.”
Balt’s eyes light up with gratitude, and Fungui feels a sense of fulfillment in knowing that he’s made a real difference in someone’s life.
Fungui asked him if he knew what the units were, and he replied, “Yes, of course! Everybody talks about them, so I would be honored to have one.”
Being the ultimate businessman, Fungui told him that he could have a unit for one night, but with strings attached, if you would like to continue having it long-term. Fungui added that he’d like to have a conversation with him tomorrow by the crack of noon. To ensure the arrangement, Fungui took a chain and secured the tricycle to a cast iron fence, as he couldn’t fully trust him yet and didn’t want him driving off with the prototype. Balt went inside the little unit to get a good night’s rest while Fungui closed down the food truck and went home.
At midday, Fungui returned to the van and found Balt outside, smoking a cigarette, winking at him, and greeting him.
Fungui said, “I hope you had a good rest. Let’s go—I need to tell you about your potential job.”
He replied, “Look, man, I’m available. I’ve got nothing else to do.” They jumped into the underground and traveled all the way to Cockfosters, heading to Trent Country Park.
Fungui wanted to put Balt on the spot to see what he was capable of. Within seconds of entering the forest, he began identifying every single mushroom visible. Fungui was completely impressed by Balt’s incredible knowledge. Without hesitation, Fungui offered him an opportunity.
“Listen,” Fungui said, “I really admire your knowledge. You can have one of those tricycles, but this will be your job.”
“I’ll give you a travel card, some food, some drinks, a mobile phone, and four different colors of special ink.”
“So, what exactly is my job?” asked Balt.
Fungui replied, “Your job is quite simple. With your knowledge, all you need to do is come here by dawn every morning, go through a section of the forest, and mark the area around each mushroom you see with the correct ink. After marking it, drop an exact pin on your mobile phone.”
Balt looked somewhat confused and asked, “Yes, I understand, but what are the color codes for?”
Fungui explained, “You use fluorescent yellow ink if it’s a psilocybin mushroom. Use green ink if it’s an edible mushroom, red ink if it’s a deadly poisonous mushroom, and fluorescent orange ink if it’s poisonous but not deadly.”
Bold looked at him and asked, “I don’t really understand what this is all for.”
Fungui replied, “For now, that’s all you need to know. We’re going to do a trial and see how you get on. As I told you, the tricycle comes with strings attached—if you don’t go into the forest as instructed and make those markings, you won’t have the tricycle for the night.”
Balt said, “I have absolutely no problem being out in the forest. I love nature and I’m happy to do this, but it seems quite strange to me. I’m hoping for an explanation.”
Fungui replied, “An explanation will be given to you when the time is right—once we build trust and, eventually, a friendship. For now, I need to go back to the food truck. You stay in the forest, find the mushrooms, drop the pins on your phone, and add the color codes. When it starts getting dark, come back for a hot meal, a couple of drinks, and rest in the ‘live-in tin’.”
It was mid-September, and mushrooms were starting to appear. Bold kept marking the mushrooms throughout the day.
Towards the evening, Bold returned to the food truck. He handed the mobile phone back to Fungui, who served him a large meal along with a couple of beers.
After closing the food truck, Fungui grabbed two 109-liter suitcases borrowed from a few homeless people along with some tricycles. He caught the last underground train, arriving at the park around 1:30 a.m., equipped with the coordinates. He began tracing the trails of the marked mushrooms.
Fungui had digital HD infrared night vision binoculars mounted on his head, allowing him to navigate easily through the forest. Using the exact coordinates, he located the mushrooms and placed them into containers inside the suitcases. He spent the entire night collecting every single marked mushroom.
By morning, he took the first underground train back to the food truck and had a brief rest. Peeping through the window, he ensured that Bold left for the forest as planned. Fungui then began cleaning and preparing the mushrooms.
The psilocybin mushrooms went straight into a Buffalo dehydrator inside the food truck. The edible mushrooms were washed, cleaned, and either cooked and frozen or prepared for dehydration. The poisonous and deadly poisonous mushrooms were set aside and locked away for later dehydration.
At this stage, Fungui didn’t want to share any information with Balt, so he handled everything himself, which was incredibly exhausting.
This routine continued for weeks, and several kilograms of dried mushrooms were prepared, ready to be distributed for various occasions.