In this drab hole, a man sits in the corner. His features, I'm not going to describe to you. He sipped at his coffee. It was tepid, but he didn't care. He smoked. Smoked with not a tinge of romance or dignity, merely out of addiction. He smoked low tar so as to draw out a painful death rather than just take it as it is. He watched the waitress' behind with a languid, awkward longing of all he would never have. The man went to the bathroom. To take a tinkle, so to speak. The ambient, fluorescent light pours forth like the piercing cry of a demonic babe. The man enters the room with a languid push of the wooden door.
Inside, lights blur the eyes and pain jolts through his sockets. Looking in the mirror, he finds a boyish, lanky frame under a long, slightly bony, narrow face, topped off by myopic glasses. Upon looking at his own face, he gets mopey and turns away. Journeying to the stall, he swings open the stall door methodically. He is the kind of man who thinks he must consistently have his toilet seat covered in order to avoid catching anything. So he proceeds to lay on the seat the unravelings of toilet paper. The paper falls off onto the floor, and in inanimate stubbornness, falls again, inexorably falling. His expression changes from frustration to feverish anger. Drooling and gnashing his teeth, he kicks the seat, he kicks the seat, he kicks the seat, he kicks the seat. He punches the stall walls, his mouth foaming and drooling. Animated by anger, he smears the blood from his split knuckles in crimson streaks on the gray walls of the stall. Painting a vivid, surreal image. Raging and kicking, then finally the anger subsides, and he slumps to the tiled, ageless, urine-coated floor in complete defeat. A flood of tears rushes over his poor complexion. His glasses begin to fall, and he pushes them with a shove of his palm back to his face. He looks up in total despair, at the wall and sees a dispenser for toilet seat covers. At last, his defeat is complete.
P.S. Sorry to crush any hopes you had for the character
Spiro and Angus
hope, love, and abjection