From the story, White N

Been a long few months, but I found a little time to write something.  From a story of about 3k words.  This is all I will put here for now:

 

The fedora looked up and it wasn’t on the old man.  It was on Purcell, the trailer park owner; a thoroughly disgusting creature with a classical name.  He looked up with his sunken, watery black eyes and slammed the door of the trailer behind him.  He was a fat, filthy bastard, in a stained white wife-beater shirt and soiled blue plaid used car salesman slacks.  His misshapen loafers were beyond the help of a cleaning rag.  He sported his usual chewing cigar in the corner of the mouth and featured a thin line of brown mess that dripped off his chin and onto the waiting wife-beater below.  He was a symphony repulsive, a concerto revolting.

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