Look at him, standing there, chomping on his potato chips like a camel. Axels’ greasy hand takes another dive into the bag, pulling out three folded chips with his salty fingers, tipped with nails bitten down to the inflamed flesh. Although despite this condition, Axel is still able to collect a small portion of brown finger fungus beneath each weathered nail.
Slowly raising the chips to his face, his mouth opens to reveal yellow spotted teeth bound tightly together by the metal wire of his braces. Ever so gently Axel sticks out the tip of his fat, pink tongue covered in the soggy potato mash from his last bite. His monstrous tongue merely taps the inside of his lower lip, chapped from the cold weather outside, and creates a landing base for the fried treats. Now at mouth level, Axel shovels the chips in, a millimeter too far in where as he bites down and nips the tips of his fingers which become moist from his breath. Not all of the chip crumbs make it successfully into his mouth so that his moist, salty fingers linger near his lips to clean up the runaway crumbs.
As Axel wipes his dirty hands on the sides of his shirt, the counter action of his shoulders perking up occurs and he cocks his head forward to resemble the ideal dodo bird. Swiveling his eyes from one side of the room to the other, he cautiously examines the premises for any bystanders. At ease Axel reaches for the back of his Holister, khaki pants to free his boxers from his crack, not noticing the group of girls snickering directly behind him.
Now directly after grasping the back of his pants, the hand travels towards the mouth again, pointer finger in the lead. Axel strikes the inside of his mouth with the pointer finger as if he had the urge to purge, but takes a sharp left to his back molar. The minor but vigorous finger movements indicate he’s scraping off the leftover potato snack from his teeth. And with a twist that fat, pink tongue of his licks up the leftovers. Swallow.