The Adventures of the Wicked Bastard - Part 1
He dragged his ragged body, still three-quarters asleep, to the washroom. He looked in the mirror and half-saw his scruffy face, with red, puffy eyes still full of the last night's rotten dreams.
He decided that he would relieve himself in the shower that morning to save himself three minutes.
The Wicked Bastard spent the next ten minutes standing lazily in the shower, letting the tepid water mix with the previous days grit and grime, and let the noxious combination of the two sluice off his haggard frame.
The Wicked Bastard prepared himself the breakfast of champions, cold pizza, by removing it from the refrigerator. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and walked out the door.
Why would he wipe his mouth on his sleeve and not on a napkin, or some sort of cloth, you ask? The Wicked Bastard is a busy man, and has no time to waste on trivial things like basic hygiene.
The Wicked Bastard walked out to his car, a veritable boat which may have been white at point, but was at that point in time, a dull grey, tinged with rust. He opened the door and sat down. If his senses weren't so dull, he would have picked up the scent of stales cigarettes, rotten food and week-old farts. He put his key in the ignition and turned it.
TO BE CONTINUED.
