John lived in a small three bedroom apartment slapped to the right of a strange traffic armpit vortex of the sprawling metropolis we've known as the big forking apple. John was a neurotic anxious sort. John was a welcoming shameless sport. John was an asshole, Fuck John, he was a bastard. John was anything and everything and we didn't exist. He lived in our world but it was never his. This world was very privately exploited in a constant consuming of obsessions forced and accepted in each insignificantly ignorant click. John's only immediate saboteur of mental sedation was his ability to think too lugubriously deep. "Consume good consumers, there's bound to be something good left in this world. Lets cut it down, divide it up, pass it out in one grand sweeping sharing gesture and consume it, that way we'll all disappear twice as quick," said John. John was passionate and watched too many screens all too often. Everyone that John had known wasn't sure if they agreed with him. "Those Bastards," thought John. "Who do they think THEY are?"......... ..
