And there he goes, emerging from his cave for the first and only exit of the day. He will return with the same bag of cheetos and diet coke. Except he never leaves with any trash, so one can only imagine what his sanctuary looks like. He hasn't taken a shower since the day I met him, three years ago. His hair is sludged with oil. Tangled, impossible mats rest atop pools of grease like moss to a pond. It crawls to his neck and splits into black vines, only glued by the hardened sweat he wouldn't think to clean. His skin, littered with volcanic like pustules, desperate to erupt, some overdue, but ultimately trapped by the sparse yet thick black wire that shoots out of his chin. His eyebrows are to be no more simply described than a bush. They bridge the gap between his eyes like an endless forest, stretching from earlobe to earlobe. His clothes haven't been washed in weeks. They mimic the degradation of a baby blanket. His shirt has spun into a single thread that loops around his arms and is only attached to a thin, frail tag stuck to the moisture seeping from his back. His pants are too small, as if he let himself grow through them like the hulk. His hairy, ghost like, vein covered legs burst out through the cropped, circulation destroying holes. He has no shoes, but what's left of his socks is covered in black dirt that tracks dusted footsteps behind the fallen cheetos marking his trail. His fingernails are yellowed by the stains of constant itching at his body and digging for leftover chips. The skin below them has been permanently dyed orange. His belly dangles like a sluggish pouch from his overtly tightened khakis. His eyes are littered with snake-like, piercing red veins crawling throughout. They are perfect circles, never falling to blink. Their pale yellow color indicates some sort of jaundice and his unprotected sneeze sprays the room with a hazardous green mucus. He raises his hand to shield his big monstrous nostrils with a tinge of politeness but it only works to reveal the Rapunzel-like armpit hair that has been cultivating for weeks. Just as he enters the room he invites his putrid, nuclear stench that infects any nose so unfortunate to cross its path. His presence is a phenomenon and you never know when to expect him next.
