Chimerical_Knave
Reminiscent 

"Here's some fun facts about me, if you're into that kind of stuff."
"As a young boy I followed all of the ten commandments without even knowing, well nearly all. I never disobeyed my mother or father; I didn't want useless things that my neighbors happily displayed for all to envy; I didn't worship anything that wasn't worth worshiping or keeping in my memory nor did I create some equally superfluous idol; I never lied behind people's backs and spread weak rumors, I spoke with my fists instead; I never misused the name of the lord because his name was rarely spoken by me or to me; I don't ever recall a day in my life where I spent a Sunday doing work of any sort; I was never able to cheat on anybody because long term relationships seemed to hate me; I was content with what I had so stealing never crossed my mind; I never was one for lying - what was the use? You'd get caught eventually, whether it was five minutes from now or five years."
I paused for a minute.
"You see, I followed all of the commandments...all except for one."
I took my elbows off of the table and leaned back in my chair slightly.
"It all started back when..."

Tick. Tock. Ding! Ding! Ding!
The vintage grandfather clock resonated with low, baritone vibrations. Even at its old age, it managed to signal the correct time.
The barely standing grandfather clock wasn't the only object that openly graced the space with its age. The walls and floorboards equally - and proudly - made noises to signify their existence; creaking and groaning in pain or delight, one could not tell. If you looked closely enough, some floorboards would go the extra mile and puff their chest out in pride if you walked over it.
However, one look at its faded paint and scratched glass would make any professional interior designer, or home realtor, want a remodel instantly. Everything inside the deteriorating home was old and battered - everything including its rightful owner.
Even though everything inside the house was old...nothing, and I mean nothing, was out of place. Every cup, every picture, every kitchen utensil and decoration, everything hanging off of my walls from my high school certificate of graduation to my dad's faded war medals...everything was right where they needed to be; everything including me.
I sat, as a lonesome wolf, on a wooden stool which was pulled up to the rim of my table. On the table there was a bottle of whiskey and a loaf of bread.
I gingerly grasped the handle of my bottle and poured a shot before biting into my bread. My canines crunched and shattered the bread's crusting, gnawing until it was soft enough to swallow. Heh, I was snacking on stale bread.
"Bland. This tastes bland," I said to no one in particular.
You see, I had tried dipping it in milk, spreading butter, spreading jelly but nothing appeased my sensitive palate. I could only enjoy eating when my conscience was half-conscious under the effects of alcohol.
Anyone who knew of my simple, routine diet could only wonder why I didn't buy better food. Well, for one, I was stingy. Other than that, I preferred living simple; simplicity at its best. No need for complications of worrying about this and that, owing this to him and her, and moving here to there. I liked to keep things as simple as possible. Which was probably the reason why my shirt still had a stain from last week and why my fur was ruffled and stood up on random spots of my body.
I tried to stand up, found that I couldn't, and ended up toppling backwards - still in my chair. Luckily, my old back was sturdier than it seemed and it survived the fall - though I was out cold for the night. The chair, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky: one of its legs had snapped in two - which I would figure out in the morning when I tried to prop it back up without success.
I lived a very boring life; it can't get any more boring than isolating myself inside my home for seven days a week. I couldn't say that I was exactly content with my current life - barely moving along at a snail's pace through life with my severance pay - but it was better than smoking my life out with pot or getting shot for crack. I did get offered a position one time before to live my life as a dealer when I decided to visit the big city. What do they take me for? Just because I'm old and look poor does it mean that I'm desperate and down-right stupid? Fucking retards live in my world nowadays; fucking retards.
I didn't think my life would change at all but I suppose that promiscuous bitch named Fate has a way of repaying you for keeping yourself good and clean. I mean who would've seen her coming when I had to throw my broken chair out the next day?
I have only Fate to thank for that crucial moment in my life...or maybe it's God? I'm not sure which one to thank...or hate.
I should've never thrown that chair out. I should've just patched it up. This is what I get for going outside again...