Starting at the top, there was this to notice:
- a too-small straw hat
- a wreath of hair curling out from the edges of the too-small hat
- a pair of emo-hipster tortoiseshell glasses in a shade of ironic black
- plugs in the earlobes, I'm guessing 14 gauge
- a ratty Van Dyke beady thing, with crumbs on.
- a double chin under an already weak one
- a short sleeved plaid cotton shirt in a mix of muddy browns that no doubt spoke to his lifelong parent-hate
- a pair of jean shorts. rolled up. to his crotch. unevenly.
- a set of blazing white doughy thighs that would make a 15-year-old girl cry at the injustice of them if they were hers, causing her to adopt an 'all-maxi-dress, all-the-time' attitude and a love for lights-off sex, not to mention never EVER getting into a bathing suit in front of anyone, not even her granny, because Granny has better thighs than her, dammit.
- shinny chicken calfs
- ratty hi-tops, in a bland tan that no doubt is a mirror of his take on the current state of society.
The thighs though. Those freaking THIGHS will haunt my memory. The soft yeasty overproofed thighs of a young MAN (if the snotty demi-beard is to be believed), the thighs that should be hard and sound and muscular in the places where this....boy....was as yielding as a down pillow, yet not as alluring a place to rest.
Ew. Ew ew ew ew ew ew.
And yet? He was with a GIRL. Who was being all solicitous and shit about what kind of kraftbrew or bubbly wine he wanted. Either she was his sister, or he's got a huge dick.
There can be no other explanation.
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