It was a lonely day; Samuel Sanus remembered it always being this way. It frustrated him to think of the lack of change he experienced on a day-to-day basis. He tried to cheer himself up with the explanation that if anything would change, it would be uncomfortable and things would go downhill. He was content with what he had but he wasn’t really happy. Maybe it was the lack of female guests that came to his house, he tried to not dwell on such thoughts, as they would depress him and make him think of any possible incompetence of his personality, his body, or his belongings (money, house, family etc.)

A thought dawned on hi that he might possibly get a hold of his brother Charles and challenge him to a drinking game at some bar in hopes of outwitting his older brother and impress someone to bring home. He picked up a telephone and dialed in the first three digits. His eyes wandered over to the newspaper and he put the phone down rather quickly. No, he wouldn’t risk it. His brother had insomnia last time he stayed over and wound up making a big mess out of things. He couldn’t risk it happening again especially with such unusual things happening.

He went to the bathroom to relieve himself. He stopped by a mirror and looked at himself. He was rather attractive and blamed his inability to have a large number of young women fawn all over him on the way he kept to himself most of the time. He had short dark hair grown in an unruly manor as it always had and he kept it this way because it was in fashion. He had a barely there mustache that was in a thin ‘M’ under his nose. He trimmed his beard in such a way that he looked decent and not in a goatee like some teenagers do. No, he had grown up and was thankful for it. He was in prime condition. He was slightly fit yet skinny. His nose was round and stuck out but it was only a minor flaw. Nobody’s perfect, he reasoned. He had dark brown eyes and thick eyelashes. He winked in the mirror as he walked by, smiling really big so as to show off his white teeth and pink gums. He made his fingers look like guns and pretended to look like a familiar character on an old show nobody remembers on purpose.

As he walked out, he remembered he had brought leftovers home from work. He walked into the kitchen, taking a swig out of a whisky container fashioned to look like a flask a man of the army would carry along with him. It tasted bitter with a slight twang. He didn’t like the taste but it didn’t matter, he was drinking to simply make the time go by faster. He opened the refrigerator door to see empty whiteness. He silently cursed the way he could never keep food in the refrigerator. It wasn’t that he was poor; no, he had inherited a fortune from a long dead grandfather who had nicknamed him Sam-bone. It was the fact that Sam did not like to go shopping. He didn’t like for people to look at him suspiciously and query of his life or beg for something whether it be company, money, or anything of the sort.

He replaced the meal with more booze. He wasn’t worried about killing his liver or anything. Seldom did he drink. He usually did it in the company of others. He turned on the television with the flip of the remote and turned the channel to some adult movie where the girls were plastic Barbie thin and had bleached blonde hair and giggled with mad glee at the thought of foreplay.

Samuel finished off the whiskey, sat it down on the nearest flat surface and let the colors of blend and swirl. He believed he fell asleep sometime around 3:00/