Sweetie, It's My Life

Chester Clogsworth Hattington

He's a curious being now isn't he? Red flaming hair sticking up like a mad scientists, an electrifying smile that could power Frankenstein, and silver and copper eyes that could melt the coldest heart. Why the way he spoke made mean old Winter wither to his feet. He dressed like an English gentleman; a crisp tweed jacket and vest over a pearly white button up shirt, a plaid green scarf was swept around his thin neck and thrown over his left shoulder and a pocket watch of copper sat snugly in his jacket pocket, it's slim chain looping out from the pocket brim. Upon his wild hair sat a tweed fedora with a it's brim turned up like some catty fashion model. A pair of shiny, new looking dress shoes adorned his slightly over sized feet and slim black pants swathed his long legs. His sunny smile completed the very put together look.

As he strolled down the dimly lit street, several passing women batted their eyelashes and flashed their best smiles his way, but he stopped to greet none of them. He just politely nodded his head in their direction and when he looked away they pouted, visibly disappointed that they were overlooked. 

His legs moved in long, swift strides that carried him quickly down the street and around the shadowy corner. He paused looking around in the drizzly, foggy evening glimmer. His so treasured eyes fell upon the form of a shabby looking fellow who sat ungracefully on black bench. He resumed walking, his direction towards the sitting fellow.

A smile graced his lips and his freckled dimples shone like a stage spotlight, as he neared the man. Stopping before him he placed his slender hands on his hips, tilting his head to look at the man on the bench. The man rose to greet him, extending a grease covered hand to him and a rough but contradictory smooth voice escaped the grimy fellow's lips.

"Good evening, Chester Clogsworth Hattington."