Mr. Dispatch

There were no plants or shrubs in his yard. It looked as if they had been ripped out in a rage. The living room looked like a cross between a hotel room and a crime scene. The fridge had beer, ketchup, yellow mustard and a package of frozen pork chops with one removed. There was a open box of black plastic forks spilled onto the counter. The bed was unmade and laundry overflowed in a pile on a chair. Everything shouted angry divorced man.