As he walked down the damp pavement, the cold night breeze hit Rick's face.
'One won't do. I need a few,' Rick thought to himself as he rubbed his nose, and the scent of Emily's slick juices invaded his nose.
He rubbed his thumb against his index finger and took a deep breath, and a cynical smirk briefly appeared on his face.
Part of him couldn't believe what he had just done!
He had actually left her begging for his cock.
Old Rick, the pathetic simp, would have taken her upstairs, let her cry on his shoulder, and settled for being her sloppy seconds.
But not tonight. Tonight something had cracked inside of him. He would have gone all the way and lost his 22 years of virginity, but the moment she cried out Roy's name, he snapped out of it.
Meanwhile, thinking all about it, he had already reached the corner shop at the end of the street.
The flickering neon sign buzzed over the shop, and Rick walked inside, ignoring the bored cashier behind the counter. He went straight to the coolers in the back and grabbed a cheap, heavy pack of Buzzkill.
He didn't care about the taste. He just wanted the alcohol to blur the edges of this miserable day.
After paying for the beer, he was in and out of the store in no more than 2 minutes.
"At least I get to drink thanks to her," Rick took in a deep breath when he was outside the store, but his nose was quickly assaulted by the mouth-gagging stench of stale urine, cheap liquor, and unwashed body odour.
Rick looked to his right, and sitting slumped against the brick wall of an alleyway, almost unconscious was an old homeless man.
His clothes were nothing more than muddy rags clinging to a skeletal frame. His hair was a greasy mess of grey, and half his teeth were missing.
A dirty, crumpled cardboard sign sat next to his worn-out boots, but the marker ink had completely washed away in the rain.
"Hey, kid," the old man rasped. His voice sounded like grinding gravel, "Got a spare dollar? Need a drink."
Rick looked down at the pathetic figure for a good long second. Somehow, he saw a twisted reflection of himself.
Just two losers sitting in the gutter of a rigged world. While guys like Sterling and Chad would be sitting in warm, expensive restaurants right now, drinking vintage wine and laughing at guys like them.
So why shouldn't this guy get a temporary escape?
Rick tore open the cardboard packaging of his beer. He pulled out two cold cans of lager and held them out.
"I don't have change," Rick said flatly, "But have this."
The old man's eyes lit up with surprising intensity. He snatched the two cans from Rick's hands with greedy, shaking fingers.
"Bless you, boy! Bless you!" the old man cackled, clutching the cans to his dirty chest like they were solid gold, "You are a rare breed. Most people just spit on me."
"I get it," Rick muttered, leaning his back against the brick wall near the old man. He cracked open his own can of lager and took a long, bitter swig. The cheap beer burned the back of his throat, "The world is a brutal place. Might as well enjoy the poison while we are stuck in it."
"Excuse me!" a shrill, piercing voice interrupted them.
Rick turned his head. A middle-aged woman was marching towards them down the pavement.
She wore a pristine beige Kashmere coat, expensive leather boots, and carried a designer handbag that probably cost more than Rick made in a month from streaming. But in contrast, her face was twisted into a mask of pure disgust.
"What on earth do you think you are doing?" She demanded, glaring at Rick.
Rick took another sip of his beer, "Standing outside the store. Minding our own business."
The woman pointed a manicured finger at the homeless man, "You are giving alcohol to a vagrant! Are you out of your mind? You are enabling his destructive habits!"
Rick rolled his eyes, "He asked for a drink. I gave him a drink."
The woman gasped, clutching her designer handbag to her chest as if Rick had just drawn a weapon.
"How dare you speak to me like that? People like him are a burden on society!"
"They litter our streets. They refuse to work. If he pulled himself together instead of begging for handouts, maybe he wouldn't be a useless bum!"
"Hahaha!" The old man let out a loud, hacking laugh. He looked up at the woman, revealing his rotting teeth.
"And you are a stuck-up, dried-out old hag!" the old man shouted, his raspy voice echoing down the street, "If you are not going to spare some change, take that fancy leather bag and shove it right up your tight, miserable stuck-up ass!"
The woman's face turned beet red with absolute fury, "You disgusting pig! I am calling the police right now! You are both a menace!"
She frantically dug into her handbag, pulling out a sleek, expensive smartphone.
Rick pushed himself off the brick wall, and stepped closer to her. He was taller than her, and the cold, dead look in his eyes made her freeze.
"Call them," Rick said, his voice dangerously low, "Tell them a guy gave a homeless man a beer. And instead of going back home, I am standing in front of them, not as a woman, but a scared sagging pussy."
"You..." The woman hesitated, her thumb hovering over the screen. She looked at Rick's imposing posture and the crazy glint in the old man's eyes, "You... You are both trash."
"Yeah, well, trash stinks," Rick replied smoothly, "So you better walk away before the smell ruins your expensive clothes."
"You..." The woman let out an indignant huff. She spun around on her leather heels and marched quickly down the street, muttering curses under her breath.
Rick watched her go until she turned the corner. He shook his head, a cynical smirk returning to his face. He looked down at the old man.
"Enjoy the beer, mate," Rick said.
"You are a good lad," the old man grinned, popping the tab on one of the cans.
Rick didn't reply as he walked forward, getting back on his miserable journey back to his apartment building.
He had to go deal with Emily, who must be waiting for him in his apartment, crying her eyes out. He took another gulp of his beer, mentally preparing himself to ignore her puppy eyes.
He didn't look back at the homeless old man. If he had, he would have seen something completely impossible.
The moment Rick's back was turned, the old man dropped the helpless hobo act. The hunched, frail posture vanished. He sat up completely straight, his dirty eyes tracking Rick's retreating figure.
He cracked open the first can, raised it to his lips, and chugged the entire thing in three massive gulps before tossing the empty can onto the wet pavement.
Burrp!
The old man let out a loud, rumbling burp, and wiping his wet mouth with the back of his filthy sleeve, a wicked, borderline demonic grin stretched across his weathered face.
"Finally," the old man muttered, his voice dropping, and resonating with a strange, unnatural power, "I have finally found the chosen one. About bloody time."
The old man stood up, raised his right hand and casually flicked his wrist.
The air in the dirty alleyway instantly warped. It was like looking at the world through a thick layer of heat haze. And out of nowhere, a massive, heavy-duty truck materialised out of thin air.
It was an absolute monster of a vehicle. It was painted pitch black, covered in thick steel plating. The front grill was fitted with a menacing, heavy iron bullbar, and the massive diesel engine purred with a deep, bone-rattling vibration.
The old man didn't even blink. He grabbed the handle of the driver's side door and hauled himself up into the cab.
He sat behind the large steering wheel, his dirty hands gripping the leather. Without dilly-dallying, the old man slammed the gear stick forward and slammed his foot down on the accelerator.
The massive black truck surged out of the alleyway like a fired missile. The sheer torque tore chunks of asphalt right out of the ground.
Down the street, oblivious to whatever the suspicious old man was up to, Rick was just taking another sip of his beer.
"Huh?!" Rick suddenly a vibration in his heart, then the pavement beneath his shoes started to tremble. The puddle next to his boot rippled aggressively.
GRRRR!
And then, the deafening roar of a massive engine filled the street.
Rick stopped walking.
He frowned, lowering his beer can. It sounded like a freight train was barrelling right down the middle of the residential road.
"What is this sound?" He slowly turned his head to look over his shoulder, and was suddenly left with jelly legs.
Two massive, blindingly bright headlights illuminated the dark street like twin suns.
Time seemed to slow down to a crawl. Rick could see the heavy treads on the massive tyres spinning furiously. He tried to move. He tried to dive to the side.
But his legs wouldn't respond. He was completely paralysed by the overwhelming, terrifying aura radiating from the incoming vehicle.
The heavy-duty truck was hurtling straight towards him. It wasn't swerving. It wasn't hitting the brakes. In fact, it was accelerating.
The truck closed the distance in a fraction of a second, and the massive black grill eclipsed Rick's entire field of vision.
"HeeeeHwaah!" A head popped out of the driver's window and Rick finally saw the driver behind the wheels of his impending death. It was the old man whom he shared his beer with.
"Did you miss me, boy?!" The old man screamed, "I am here to return the favour."
"Why don't you thank me?"
"You might not get the chance!"
'Oh, fuck me,' Rick thought.
'That sagging pussy wasn't wrong after all.'
BAM!