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Planetoid
- Joined
- Jan 22, 2009
Mike glanced up at the clock and stood. He glanced around groggily before seeing what he had been looking for. A pair of jeans were yanked up his legs and a Witchcraft shirt was wrestled into place backwards before he twisted around for a few moments to right it. Stumbling into the kitchen, still wiping sleep from his eyes he yanked the fridge open and pulled out a beer for himself and a bone from the butcher's shop that he tossed out the open window to the dog sleeping in the back. The Shepherd sprung up and set about the bone with a vengeance, tearing off excess scraps of meat. Mike downed the beer in a few swift sips, using the last for a pair of pills. At the door, he looked for all the usual items he carried with him. Phone, boots, keys, ink pen, and a combat knife with a razor sharp six inch blade.
He stepped out into the late afternoon shine of of the summer sun and jogged toward the '69 Charger, the only thing his bastard grandfather had ever given him. Mike spared a grin for the dead man who had made him who he was. As he slid into the car he glanced into the mirror and winced. Three days without shaving had left his square jaw decidedly hairy. His hair was fin though, fanatically short as always. Sunken eyes gleamed back at their owner with an almost feral eagerness for the night's events. As he backed out of the driveway he smiled and waved to the kids playing next door.
He cruised through a convenient store and picked up a coke and pack of gum. He scrabbled the address out from above the sun visor and turned into the neighborhood of his date for the night. One well-muscled arm hung lazily out the window as he approached and Swedish vocals issued from the stereo system, backed by low tuned guitars. At his destination, Mike hopped out of the car and jogged to the door, knocking rapidly.
He stepped out into the late afternoon shine of of the summer sun and jogged toward the '69 Charger, the only thing his bastard grandfather had ever given him. Mike spared a grin for the dead man who had made him who he was. As he slid into the car he glanced into the mirror and winced. Three days without shaving had left his square jaw decidedly hairy. His hair was fin though, fanatically short as always. Sunken eyes gleamed back at their owner with an almost feral eagerness for the night's events. As he backed out of the driveway he smiled and waved to the kids playing next door.
He cruised through a convenient store and picked up a coke and pack of gum. He scrabbled the address out from above the sun visor and turned into the neighborhood of his date for the night. One well-muscled arm hung lazily out the window as he approached and Swedish vocals issued from the stereo system, backed by low tuned guitars. At his destination, Mike hopped out of the car and jogged to the door, knocking rapidly.