He thumbed the brim of his lucky trilby, thinking of all the women who rejected his advances. "They don't even like magic tricks anymore," he muttered to himself. "I paid, like, fifty bucks for that pack of cards at the Pick Up Artist convention. Have all women become lesbians?" He chuckled at the thought, and felt a stirring in his loins.
He walked to the window, the formic burn of the taquito and Dew stinging at forlorn tastebuds never satisfied after he moved from his parents' basement two years ago. He pushed a sausage-like finger through the tightly-shut blinds, instinctively squinting as he looked out at the scene outside. A bland silvery grey, like the inside of the tube of a can of Pringles.
Actually, it was a brilliant summery day, with a bright sun and clear blue for miles all around. But he preferred to think of it as silvery grey. He pulled his finger from the shades, letting it pop back into place with a muted snick, then reached down to scratch himself, pondering a moment whether to finish off that bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, or to open another bag.
He walked to the window, the formic burn of the taquito and Dew stinging at forlorn tastebuds never satisfied after he moved from his parents' basement two years ago. He pushed a sausage-like finger through the tightly-shut blinds, instinctively squinting as he looked out at the scene outside. A bland silvery grey, like the inside of the tube of a can of Pringles.
Actually, it was a brilliant summery day, with a bright sun and clear blue for miles all around. But he preferred to think of it as silvery grey. He pulled his finger from the shades, letting it pop back into place with a muted snick, then reached down to scratch himself, pondering a moment whether to finish off that bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, or to open another bag.
Candy Mane.