Gordy has had enough

But there was one man who had had enough. That man’s name was Gordy.

Gordy was different from the others. He was lean, quick-witted, and not intimidated by anyone or anything. He’d seen Amposh strut around the city for far too long, terrorizing shopkeepers, intimidating pedestrians, and leaving behind a trail of crushed dignity in his wake. But Gordy wasn’t afraid. Gordy had had enough.

Despite his unappealing appearance and scent, Amposh had one thing going for him: confidence. He walked the streets with the swagger of a man who owned the world, a swagger that was only enhanced by his thunderous footsteps. People would clear a path as he moved, their noses wrinkling in response to his presence.

But it wasn’t just his hair—or lack of it—that made people notice him. It was the smell. Amposh had a particular odor about him, a blend of unwashed laundry, stale sweat, and something that couldn’t quite be identified but was unpleasant all the same. His mere presence would send people searching for exits or, at the very least, a breath of fresh air.

He had a bald head, but not by choice. Every morning, he would try to coax his hair follicles into a modest growth with all the effort of someone climbing a mountain while blindfolded. Unfortunately, the follicles were as cooperative as a cat in water. They gave up long ago, leaving his head as smooth as polished stone, save for one striking feature: a thick, black unibrow that stretched from one side of his forehead to the other like the bridge of a river that no one had bothered to cross for years.

Once upon a time, in the middle of a bustling city where skyscrapers reached the sky and the streets hummed with the noise of life, there lived a man named Amposh. Amposh was not what one might call a particularly impressive sight. He was large—really large—a heavy-set figure who barely fit in most chairs. His body, round like an overripe melon, seemed to struggle against gravity, a constant reminder of his physical mass.