Hoody's Delivery Gyal
Friday morning at 7.30, Hoody stood almost naked, looking out over his balcony of the high rise flats where he lives. With his fisted hands inside the front his black boxers he stood yawning. He’s about 28 years old, though he isn’t entirely sure. He’s mixed-race and has no facial hair at all. He is a Germaphobe and hates going to places he doesn’t know. He lives alone in his immaculate apartment with a 9mm hidden under the bed, a big roll of spending paper and a big bag of weed.
As he pulled his hands out of his boxers and opened them, he put a spliff in his mouth, lit it and placed the lighter on the rail in front of him.
Hoody has an apartment on the 12th floor in Bootle, Liverpool and has been there for almost a year. With his little finger, he wiped the sleep from his eyes and yawned once again. While he stood looking around, his phone rang. He pulled it out from the back of his boxers.
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