Moralis wasn’t a bad chef but he got fired for forcing himself on the waitresses. Six years he’s run this guesthouse. He won’t ask questions. Won’t answer any either.
Three day’s beard, grey with a food stain smearing his chin, he sits behind his broken Reception sign with yesterday’s newspaper covering most of the coffee rings. He’s got a club foot, a lump like an egg on his neck that’s only three years old and a lingering smell of sweat that's probably less than a week old.
Pay in advance if you rent the room by the hour, he smirks.
Neville Hunt 6 months ago
You have go some odd mates, Drew! He sounds like me though, in Tier 4 now. All except maybe the club foot and neck egg. Mrs H is keeping herself smart though to keep on my toes! It’s a great description of somewhere I don’t want to go...
Drew Martyn 6 months ago
Not somewhere I'd like to spend the night either!