Dean groans, slumping further into the chair. It is sticky and scratched up and smells like someone had pissed on it, but it is a million times better than the other chairs at this bar.
He cracks open an eye to glance at his watch. 7pm. Bingo.
He's been waiting for hours ------
------ Well, only for ten minutes, really. But have you ever tried
sitting in a dark, damp piece of crap bar on a sticky,
scratched chair that smelled like someone had pissed on it?
Nah? I think not.
Anyways, he's been waiting for however long it was for the new bartender to arrive. Word on the street is that she's the finest piece of ass any man within a 50 mile radius has ever laid his eyes on. Of course, word on his street is that she is also a shapeshifting monster that chomps on her victims' brains.
Also, she was apparently the hottest piece of ass in town. Win-win scenario, if he could last five more minutes in this germophobic nightmare.
The man to his right suddenly lets out a huge laugh, so loud that Dean nearly falls out of his seat. The warm, damp breath escapes from his gigantic mouth, floating like a wave of radiation over Dean.
Dean turns his face away and holds his breath, looking at his watch one more time.
---------- Still fucking 7pm.
He sweeps the bar with his eyes. No sign of his mysterious shapeshifter. Meanwhile, the laugh grows louder and turns into a cough, spouting the remains of a bagel over the man's long beard and the back of Dean's coat.
Dean lifts himself up from the barstool so quickly you'd think his life was in danger. He reaches into his pocket and swiftly pulls out a wad of cash to cover his drinks, rushing to the doors with an increased fervor.
He'll be back later for her. But, this time, he'll bring hand sanitizer and a bottle of Febreeze.
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