<div class="floatleft">(http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/52/fe/72/52fe72d2e137fac82fdab79ce7de49ba.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong><em>Kyler Bishop</em>(https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=216507.0)<br/><strong>Inventory:</strong><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Gear</div><div class="spoiler_body">Basic Items on self, Wallet, Watch, Nail Necklace from grandmother<br/></div></div><br/><strong>Location:</strong><em> Bishop Books (My book Store) </em><br/><strong>Date &amp; Time:</strong><em> About 7A.M. </em><br/><strong>Tagging:</strong><em> Open For The Moment </em><br/><hr/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Bishops Books</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media/photo-s/01/f8/70/35/leakey-s-second-hand.jpg)</div></div><br/><em>'AND THE DEAD WILL RISE, AND WHERE WILL YOUR SOUL BE WHEN JESUS RETURNS...'</em>the radio blared loudly in his ear as he shot upwards almost falling from the chair he was in.  Grogy eyes turned about as his hand slapped the radio that unjustly woke him from his slumber.  A sideways whiskey bottle almost rolled from the table, a lazy hand slipping out to just barely catch it, as he realized he had fallen asleep at work, again.  The throbing in his head wasn't helping him as stood slowly, nausea and dizziness feeling his head.<br/><br/>"Holy fuck, how much did I drink last night"<br/><br/>His bloodshot eyes were on fire as he took the bottle slipping it into the trash.  Rubbing his green eyes he stretched out as realization hit him, he needed to unlock the door.  Soon his only employee, a younger girl who practically begged him for a job, would show up.  He wasnt sure why he kept her on or why she even wanted to be here.  The book store had its regulars but it wasn't as big as any of the chain stores.  Plus with the recent illnesses he's only seen about 3 people enter this whole week, and no one bought a thing.<br/><br/>He waddled, in a hungover state, to the door unlocking it.  A yawn escaped him as he returned to the table to find he reeked of booze.  In the back room he always kept a change of clothing, so while the store was still quiet he ventured to find the bag and change.  Seconds turned to minutes as he couldn't find the bag, Leslie must have moved with.<br/><br/>He growled to himself and began to head up front when he noticed the bag in the corner.  He tore his shirt off, the cool air whisping softly across the burn scars, the scars that never seemed to stop hurting.  He stretched once more before pulling a new t shirt, one with a penguin wearing headphones, from the bag and began to slip it on.