Template:Adminpick/March 2019

He sat at his computer, tongue licking his upper and lower lips in anticipation. A long-nailed, fat and grimy index finger clicked on the mouse at a dizzying pace. An observer might have thought there was an insane miniature tap-dancer somewhere underneath the piles of filth that surrounded the man. However, no tap dancer could effectively practice their talent in this cramped and deplorable dwelling.

The apartment smelled old - old food, old clothes, old sweat and old urine. Older keepsakes from a time when Meek was a different man than the behemoth sitting behind the computer now, peeked through the places where the trash didn’t take over. (Read more...)