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eyeshield22
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Sep 19, 2019
@SweetFae
His life was shit this was the thought that accompanied Marcus Ford throughout his life. The thought woke him up like a thoughtful lover would. He shoved the thought away to the deepest recesses of his mind as his eyes opened and revealed world-weary jade eyes. Marcus rolled over with a groan as he already saw his wife, the frigid bitch, already gone for the day. She was probably off getting another expensive yoga lesson. "No, she is getting fucked by the instructor," Marcus thought viciously to himself. He slowly stretched and worked the sleep out of his muscles before swinging his legs off the side of the bed. He tousled his raven black hair and pushed it back into some semblance of order. Their bedroom was decorated with his wife's tastes which meant a sleek modern design all white and dark browns. Small utilitarian dressers that served more of a decorative function and full of his wife's clothes. Marcus ignored the room and immediately headed out the door.
His footsteps echoed down the empty hallway as he entered the guest bedroom where his exiled clothes lived. He ambled up to a big chest of drawers that dominated the entire room. He opened them and began rummaging around. He settled on a polyester beige button-up shirt, a dark pair of slacks, and a brown pair of penny loafers. The outfit screamed middle management and they weren't far off with Marcus being a high school guidance counselor, who dispensed shitty life advice. He looked down at the bland outfit and could hear the roaring laughter an echo of his constant companion in his mind. Marcus sighed and pushed the thought away as he trudged back to the master bedroom and the attached bathroom.
He set his clothes on top of the hamper and looked at the tired visage of a man the world has decided to heap giant amounts of shit on. Wavy black hair, dull jade green eyes, his mouth turned down in a permanent frown with the lines to match all framed by a black beard. Slight creases in his forehead and cheeks hinted at the effects the stress was having on him. He gazed down at the slight paunch he was developing. He picked up his shirt and muscled his broad shoulders and arms into the polyester straight-jacket. His once well-muscled legs had lost much of their definition. They looked like playdough imitations of what muscled legs should look like. He shimmied into the pants and put on his loafers. It was a sad ritual and a daily reminder of the muscled physique he once had.
The bright sun beat down on Marcus as he looked out at the picture-perfect image of suburbia with perfect lush manicured lawns with white picket fences. He could only paint a fake smile on his face as he went to his run-down car and jumped into it. The ride over was forgettable as he parked his car and made his way into a building constructed in the seventies. Marcus still suspected the original lead paint could still be seen with its asbestos insulation. He waved and greeted the various students before heading into his office. His office was stripped down to the bare essentials. Those essentials were: one fatigued couch that had seen better days, one worn and beaten up wood desk, one ‘inspirational’ hanging in there kitten poster, and two fraying upholstered chairs from the mid-eighties. The only upside of his office was the walls were thick enough to deaden any sound, and he had complete privacy in his office. He looked down at his docket. It was a suspicious empty save for written and circled in red ink, “New Girl.”
Instantly, a genuine smile blossomed on his face remembering the bright ray of sunshine in human form when they met last week. The young woman had lifted him out of doldrums with a simple smile and some caring words, and those words had birthed an obsession with the young woman. The guidance counselor wanted to possess this young woman and lay his claim to her. He had a plan ready to bend the young woman to his will. Yet, his plan was to wait and get to know her a bit before bending her to his will.
Now, he just waited for her to arrive.
His life was shit this was the thought that accompanied Marcus Ford throughout his life. The thought woke him up like a thoughtful lover would. He shoved the thought away to the deepest recesses of his mind as his eyes opened and revealed world-weary jade eyes. Marcus rolled over with a groan as he already saw his wife, the frigid bitch, already gone for the day. She was probably off getting another expensive yoga lesson. "No, she is getting fucked by the instructor," Marcus thought viciously to himself. He slowly stretched and worked the sleep out of his muscles before swinging his legs off the side of the bed. He tousled his raven black hair and pushed it back into some semblance of order. Their bedroom was decorated with his wife's tastes which meant a sleek modern design all white and dark browns. Small utilitarian dressers that served more of a decorative function and full of his wife's clothes. Marcus ignored the room and immediately headed out the door.
His footsteps echoed down the empty hallway as he entered the guest bedroom where his exiled clothes lived. He ambled up to a big chest of drawers that dominated the entire room. He opened them and began rummaging around. He settled on a polyester beige button-up shirt, a dark pair of slacks, and a brown pair of penny loafers. The outfit screamed middle management and they weren't far off with Marcus being a high school guidance counselor, who dispensed shitty life advice. He looked down at the bland outfit and could hear the roaring laughter an echo of his constant companion in his mind. Marcus sighed and pushed the thought away as he trudged back to the master bedroom and the attached bathroom.
He set his clothes on top of the hamper and looked at the tired visage of a man the world has decided to heap giant amounts of shit on. Wavy black hair, dull jade green eyes, his mouth turned down in a permanent frown with the lines to match all framed by a black beard. Slight creases in his forehead and cheeks hinted at the effects the stress was having on him. He gazed down at the slight paunch he was developing. He picked up his shirt and muscled his broad shoulders and arms into the polyester straight-jacket. His once well-muscled legs had lost much of their definition. They looked like playdough imitations of what muscled legs should look like. He shimmied into the pants and put on his loafers. It was a sad ritual and a daily reminder of the muscled physique he once had.
The bright sun beat down on Marcus as he looked out at the picture-perfect image of suburbia with perfect lush manicured lawns with white picket fences. He could only paint a fake smile on his face as he went to his run-down car and jumped into it. The ride over was forgettable as he parked his car and made his way into a building constructed in the seventies. Marcus still suspected the original lead paint could still be seen with its asbestos insulation. He waved and greeted the various students before heading into his office. His office was stripped down to the bare essentials. Those essentials were: one fatigued couch that had seen better days, one worn and beaten up wood desk, one ‘inspirational’ hanging in there kitten poster, and two fraying upholstered chairs from the mid-eighties. The only upside of his office was the walls were thick enough to deaden any sound, and he had complete privacy in his office. He looked down at his docket. It was a suspicious empty save for written and circled in red ink, “New Girl.”
Instantly, a genuine smile blossomed on his face remembering the bright ray of sunshine in human form when they met last week. The young woman had lifted him out of doldrums with a simple smile and some caring words, and those words had birthed an obsession with the young woman. The guidance counselor wanted to possess this young woman and lay his claim to her. He had a plan ready to bend the young woman to his will. Yet, his plan was to wait and get to know her a bit before bending her to his will.
Now, he just waited for her to arrive.
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