Slobbus Melancholis Rolex
by James MacLaren
This is one of the stranger species to cross paths with, for despite wearing a pricey suit and driving a fancy schmancy Mercedes, this creature never seems quite able to generate a sincere smile.
Slobbus usually come middle-aged, balding, and fat, but they can occasionally be found in other guises.
Apparently, despite their successful hunt for The Almighty Dollar, things never quite turned out the way they wanted them to. They drag their sorry ass into the store from where they left that fucking Mercedes out by the gas pumps, utterly fail to acknowledge your worthless presence on the planet, and then proceed to lump around in a futile search for something, but never find it.
I’ve never been able to figure out what, exactly, it is that causes these gizorks to everlastingly mope around the way they do, but then again I don’t know what kinda creature they’re on their way home to deal with, either.
At the counter, you can count on them to utter a couple of half-hearted gripes about what’s not in the store, but they never expend enough energy to present a serious problem.
Back to the damnable autocar without so much as a nod in your direction and down the road they go.
Fuck off, asshole.
