band keith donna scruffy

You want to look away, sure: of course you do.

You can’t: your eyes keep coming back, meeting his, falling in to the crevasses that the noticeably thick pancake refuses to pretty up.

You try to appreciate Mrs. Donna Jean’s gorgeous hair, or Bobby’s gleaming smile, or Mickey’s…you try to appreciate Mickey, but still you’re drawn, like the spider to the nerdy orphan from Queens, to that uncomprehending blind rage glare, the sheer belligerence that has led to the Bare-Necked Tie.

Phil was having an off-day in this picture.