"Think of a character that isn't at all like you.
- What does he/she like to eat; favourite clothing; smell etc ... greatest fear; first thing you would notice about them; relationship with parents
- Write a simple scene e.g going to bed, and show us what they were like."
With a yawn, Jake pulled on his pyjamas. Well, he called them pyjamas. They were more like scrappy tracksuit bottoms and an old Transfomers t-shirt, since after forty-odd years of wearing shop-bought nightwear he gave up and decided to do it his own way. After all, his mother wasn't here to tell him what to do.
It seemed to him that his hair was getting a little thinner, or was that just a trick of the light? Either way, there wasn't much of it to comb and he was soon ready for bed. But wait, he had forgotten to clean his teeth, and his breath would stink of garlic in the morning.
"Who really cares?" thought Jake, and climbed into bed. That was a little more difficult since his huge body wasn't the most agile and he was tired. It had been a long day. Or rather, a long day-night-day-night, since he hadn't been to bed in several days. He'd been partying on Friday night, then he crashed at a friend's on Saturday after the cinema, and neither of them had let him get much kip. Now he was exhausted, but he couldn't help himself. He reached for a cigarette and took a drag, feeling the nicotine rush.
Jake smoked the cigarette right down to the filter and then stubbed it out on the iron of his bed before tossing it onto the desk. It would sit there for several days, joining the other accumulated rubbish, until he got around to sorting it out ... but then, why did it even need to be tidy? He never used it.
With a groan he pulled the filthy coverlet over his vast body and reached out for the alarm clock, setting it for early in the morning. It was about time he turned up for work, and he thought the boss might appreciate it more if he was on time for once. Hah. That would be a first.