The Slob

by Aron Beauregard

I thought projecting my good intentions onto others would act as a safeguard. But benevolence, charm, and charity will be of little help once you fall into the clutches of a heartless heathen.

The worst part is knowing that he was coming back. He is always just mere seconds, minutes, or hours away from turning that grimy silver doorknob again.

I was the pet of a vicious psychopath and surrounded by the repellant reincarnations of my dirty past.

You can’t change what cloth you’ve been cut from but you can at least try to wash it.