>>12787828…he posted again, gleefully licking the Cheetos powder from his fingertips. A snicker broke the basement’s grim silence as sat back and eagerly waited for the (you)s to roll in.
Above him he heard the slam of the front door. Finally. Mother was out for the night. He watched with bated breath as his Mother’s stiletto heels clacked on the sidewalk above his window.
After an anxious minute, the BGC poster began to rock his rotund figure back and forth on his gaming chair, eventually gaining enough momentum to heave himself to his feet. Crisp packets rustled in the folds of his stained singlet as he lumbered to his Pokemon piggy bank. He pulled out the twenty Euros he had stolen from Mother that morning, as she lay passed out in a puddle of vomit.
The haggard band of prostitutes sweltered on the Rhodes street, waiting in a crack-induced stupor for the next client to pull in.
A familiar buzzing noise rose in the balmy night. The prostitutes watched apathetically as the rotund figure approached. The BCG poster, wary of the web-like fissures in his country’s dilapidated streets, steered his Segway carefully to the whores. A glance of disgust between the women and a series of groans quickly established the unlucky party.
Snuffling heavily, and wiping his sticky, weak chin, the BGC poster gargled something excitedly in his repugnant language. One of the gaunt figures stepped out and trudged reluctantly behind the bulbous figure through the dark.
