Pollution was sitting on a sofa, and leaned backwards until he could peek over the backside of the seat. Granted everything was upside-down, but it was better than trying to get up and look. Stains had already set into the sofa where he was seated.
"He's here," was the announcement. Followed immediately by, "Isn't dinner ready yet? You said it would be ready by the time the programme finished. It's been finished for twenty minutes." He settled back down on the sofa, flipping through channels on the television at an alarming rate.