Alan Silver always felt a little queasy after the full moon. He dragged himself out of bed, trying to recall what exactly he had been doing for three days. He found himself to be naked and mercifully in his own apartment, he was getting a little too old to be waking up in random public places. He gazed at himself in the mirror, pushing his sandy hair out of his eyes. He squinted at the blurred image before him and then looked around blindly for his glasses. The fact he actually needed glasses in order to be able to see sufficiently in order to find his glasses was rather annoying. Once the wire rimmed spectacles were perched on his nose he tried again. He had the usual collection of scratches and cuts on his face, his nose and cheekbones bearing the brunt of it. He had quite a nasty bruise on his left hip and a set of parallel gouges on his stomach that felt like they started somewhere round the back of everything. And he smelt like an old carpet.
Once he had showered and the slightly distressing smell of mouldy shagpile had been replaced with the scent of Rainforest and he had shaved the four day growth of beard off he felt slightly more presentable. And yes that gouge went all the way round, as he had discovered once the soap hit it. He towelled himself dry, surveying the half eaten Kebab on the radiator in his bedroom and wondering what he’d done with his phone this time.
“Alan, what on earth are you wearing?” He felt slightly put out. He’d always fancied he looked rather dashing in red velvet. The flowing cut of his shirt gave him a rather rakish, romantic air and he didn’t have to suck his gut in.
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” He squinted over the top of his glasses at Helen, who looked like an Ink blot with piercings.
“Nothing, if you don’t mind attracting the wrong kind of attention.” In all honesty Alan would have been grateful to have attracted any sort of attention, Right or Wrong. He was supposed to have irresistible animal magnetism; instead he had a bad back, flat feet and had been without sex for at least 18 months (and that had been a very drunken encounter in which he wasn’t entirely sure who had done what to whom, or if it actually counted as sex when you still had your trousers on). He went back up the stairs to his apartment and put on his plain black cotton shirt, sighed loudly and went back down to the Coffee shop.
“So how was it?” Helen asked a she counted the float in the cash register.
“How was what?” Alan helped himself to two Bagels and a chocolate muffin, poured himself a cup of Earl Gray and sat down on a squashy sofa near the counter. The sofa promptly tried to eat him, and it was only his full moon enhanced reflexes that prevented him from getting a groin full of tea. It was going to be one of those days, you could always tell when the furniture turned cannibal you might as well have not got out of bed. He switched from the carnivorous sofa to a table for two.
“How was your time of the month?”
“I really wished you wouldn’t call it that Helen. “
“Did you meet anyone nice? Did you eat anyone?”
“No. Or at least I don’t remember if I did. To either question.”
“Never mind Alan, I’m sure there’s someone out there just waiting for a big hunk like you to gnaw them off of their feet.”
“You are really funny. And very close to being fired.” He shoved half a bagel in his mouth and chewed in what he hoped was a menacing- you-have-been-warned kind of way. Helen smiled sweetly, displaying her pointed teeth to full effect.
“You wouldn’t fire me. I’m the only one that knows how to change the till rolls.” Alan narrowed his eyes into a scowl, the effect spoiled by the mouthful of bagel. “I know you’re just grumpy because you didn’t get any last night. Any way- isn’t it time you unlocked the door?”
Alan reached up above the door and flicked the dead bolts back. He switched on the Open sign in the window and wondered what Wednesday was going to bring.
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