The Bodacious E started his day like he always did: By logging onto Discord, seeing notifications from his friend Flagg1991, and ignoring the fuck out of them.

In his inbox: Hey, E, haven't heard from you in a while, you okay, buddy?

Tagged in a server: E, check this shit out, son, it's dope.

In another server. My favorite friend is E, he's a cool guy.

Dude wouldn't leave him alone. Didn't he get it? E was too busy for him.

Getting out of bed, E kicked through empty beer cans, used condom wrappers, and moldy pizza crusts. The guys from last night were strewn across the floor of E's half bedroom apartment, passed out and naked. Lincoln, Clyde, Chandler, Poppa Wheelie, Rusty, Rocky, and Benny. They were up late playing soggy biscuit. That's where a bunch of dudes stand in a circle and jerk off onto a biscuit, then one has to eat it. E was too fucking poor to afford biscusts, so they used his face instead.

He showered, dressed in a jersey and baggy jeans over a hot pink thong, and left to do his thing. First, he hopped on his rusted ass bike and pedaled to work: The newspaper plant. He picked up his papers, then rode through town tossing papers at houses like a twelve year old. Next, he went to school. Because of his, uh, problems, he was in the special ed class, and before lunch, a kid puked on him, another headbutted him out of jealousy because E got three cookies for snack to his two and a girl who wore a diaper gave him a card she made, purple scribbles on pink paper. "I like you, E," she said.

Heh.

At the end of the day, he went to the salon to get his hair and nails did. At one point, his phone buzzed and he took it out. A text from Flagg. I'm really worried, man, you okay?

E rolled his eyes.

After the salon, he grabbed a black trash bag and spent the evening picking up cans at the side of the interstate for extra money. Flagg texted him again, and E fumed. LEAVE ME ALONE, I'M TOO BUSY FOR YOU! God!

E took his cans to the junkyard and left the proud owner of a shiny new quarter. Suh-WEET. On his way home, though, a bigger boy snatched E by the front of his crusted, punk ass jersey, punched him in the guts, and took his quarter away. "Thanks for the payday, fag."

Curling up into a ball, E cried like a bitch.

Then his phone rang.

So help him God, if it was Flagg.

He answered it. "Heeeeey."

"E, it's Flagg…"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" E pitched the phone away and finished crying, then pushed himself up and went home. A note was pinned to his door. EVICTED.

E sighed.

Again?

He went to his landlord's door and knocked. A moment later, Mr. Grouse answered. "Ah, there you are. Ready to earn your keep?"

Ten minutes later, Mr. Grouse sat naked on the edge of his bed. E knelt between his legs and took his cock into his mouth. Crying silently, he licked, pumped, and worked that dick until Mr. Grouse threw his head back and filled E's mouth with hot old man jizz. As E left in abiding shame, Mr. Grouse grinned. "See ya next week, kid."

In his apartment, he made himself a brick of Ramen, but was so poor he couldn't afford a flavor packet, so he ate it raw. Standing over the overloaded sink. Crying.

Later, the gang came over and they played soggy biscuit again.

THE END.