Aectaeon had just exited the hotel where he was working at. Somehow, he felt as if the day had been extended without his knowledge. Both his mind and body were exhausted beyond their limits.
'What the f*ck does that bastard want with me? Screw him and his dirtbag of a face. If I didn't need money, I would've fed him some sh*t.'
Aectaeon stopped in his tracks and heaved a deep sigh to calm his raging nerves. He had recently finished a long shift in his part-time job at the hotel. Because of the efficiency that he had shown in the job, he was assigned to take over the front desk by the manager.
Until now, the work had been nothing but smooth-sailing for the man. Be that as it may, it seemed that the Gods watching over him didn't want to make things easy for Aectaeon.
Out of all days, he just had to meet the, in his terms, nasty customer. The customer, or rather a potential one, demanded to get a master suite for his party of fifteen. It was a doable request, only if a single one of the master suites was available.
Unfortunately, all of the suites were already booked by an entire wedding entourage. Aectaeon made sure to explain the existing arrangement as simply as he could, but his words landed on deaf ears.
So, what was the customer's response?
Well, the customer accepted and left without inciting trouble. Aectaeon was free to do his work with an unbothered heart.
.
.
.
.
Of course, that was a lie.
That's merely what Aectaeon wanted to happen.
The truth was that the customer -- using all of the air in their lungs -- shouted profanities at Aectaeon.
Aectaeon wasn't even given a moment to wipe his face that was riddled with beads of spit. He simply stood there and waited for the customer's aggression to die down. Regrettably for him, it took more than ten minutes for that time to arrive. His suffering only ended when the guards were finally called to escort the customer and his group out.
'I could swear the amount of spit on me could have filled a bucket. If he used that energy to exercise, he would've been half his size. D*mn retard, stop being stupid. I'm allergic to that.'
Even if he wished to regather his composure, Aectaeon could feel his blood starting to boil in every instance that he remembered the incident.
'If I meet that fatty on the streets, I will-- No, this is ridiculous. He isn't worth my time.'
Aectaeon immediately ceased thinking of ill-will towards others. He knew that he wouldn't gain anything from keeping grievances to himself. Even if he did and eventually got his petty revenge, there was nothing more to it than fulfilling a petty desire.
He went ahead and let out another long sigh. Once he was done, he proceeded with his saunter back home.
Halfway into his walk, he decided to take out his phone. However, the tall shadow that loomed over him made Aectaeon raise his head instead. At that instant, he saw a tower of a person standing in front of him. He wasn't even certain if it was really a person or a lamp post.
Aectaeon didn't say anything and simply abided for the person to pass him by. But even after a few minutes of strained silence, the individual didn't make a single move.
"Can you please get out of the way?" Actaeon asked as his annoyance began to grow.
The man in front of him, who had appeared all of a sudden, was blocking the only path he could take back home. It was already the dead of the night, so he couldn't care less about how the mysterious individual made their appearance.
Although, it would benefit him more if he questioned the man's uncanny garments.
The eight-feet tall man had donned a navy blue top hat that was half of his height. His face was completely covered with white paint. For his eyes, there were two arrowheads pointing upwards drawn on top of his sockets. As for his nose and mouth, in their places were two coin-sized black circles.
Without a doubt, the man looked like a clown who had just made their debut in a decrepit circus. Funnily enough, Aectaeon would fit in that circus as a dejected manager. The deep bags under his eyes would definitely support that fantasy.
Adding to the mysterious individual's exoticism was the brown full-body straitjacket that he was wearing. And for the anticlimactic conclusion, the man was wearing air as his footwear. His feet were free to feel the coldness of the cement.
It's safe to say that he's quite the character.
But, as expected, Actaeon was disinterested in what he was seeing. There were all sorts of eccentric people in the world. He had no time to be surprised every time he encountered one.
"Didn't you hear me? I'm not interested in your show or anything. I'm broke as f*ck."
After stating a piece of his mind, Actaeon decided to take a step forward. Yet before he could even do so, he heard the man speak.
"Dear young man, how do I look?"
After hearing the question, Aectaeon pursed his lips and gave the man a questioning gaze. If he was to answer, he could utilize an entire page of words that were synonymous with displeasing. Still and all, he had to mull over his response properly. He didn't want to offend someone as odd as the individual. They might have a weapon or two under their clothes.
'Now that I think about it, this man is weirdly tall. Is he perhaps a basketball player? I haven't seen one in person. Though, not like I care. I'll just answer whatever to get away.' Aectaeon thought as his countenance returned to its aloof state.
"You're quite unique, if I may say so. You're certainly going to pass any audition you'll decide to join in. Well then, I'll excuse myself. I have somewhere I need to be."
To Aectaeon's relief, the man didn't do anything to impede his advance. At last, he could go home. The day hadn't been merciful to him, so he wanted to crash on his bed as soon as possible. As he crossed paths with the man, Aectaeon couldn't prevent himself from hastening his steps.
"Aectaeon Foester,"
The moment that he heard his name, Aectaeon came to a stand-still. He could feel the dagger-like stares of the man being directed at him.
"I heard you don't like games? Can you tell me why?"