He belches verses of prayer from the acidity of his gut, staggering upright on two toddler feet, he trails drunkenly to the fridge, scarce with only a few dented beers, a bucketful of ice to feed him, till the next scroungers pay-check is due.
Cracking open a frozen one, it hisses a warrior's cry, loud in the stillness then dies swiftly, as he raises the carcass to his split lip swilling alcoholic entrails round him gums.
Wincing slightly, the beer half-empty in his hand, he twitches a pink eye in pain as something rolls around his jaw, the made-of-man pinball stage has begun a game without him.
Gathering his saliva into a hard bullet, he spits the foreign object onto splintered floorboards, where his last tooth lands, a final casualty of his handsome youth.