It was four am Monday morning. Through the

It was four am Monday morning. Through the glass doors the darkness outside could be seen. She listened carefully, expectantly, for the first signs of day. But there were no kookab

bikram yoga classes at this hour, so she set out in search of an alternative. As she rounded a corner, she collided with a large, tattooed, pierced, dreadlocked, crazy-looking

white boy by the names of James, "but you can call me Tyrone," he introduced. I kicked him to the side and proceeded with my life as he was highly irrelevant.

I realized a long ago I was the only interesting person in the world & ignored what other people said.It was a waste of time to listen.They were just interrupting my clever monolo

logues and observations about life. People called me a self-obsessed arrogant prick. Poor devils, If they knew what I knew..... Anyway, I was walking along one fine day, when all

these fobbing motley-minded hipsters approached me en masse. I looked down at my nose that them and their ironic facial hair and faux-self-effacing condescension

Which caused nobody to like me. I had no friends at all and the only rational explanation was that darn side effect. It couldn't be because

once I went nuts and embarrased everyone taking all my clothes in front of everybody at the local catholic church of my neighbourhood when I was 14. No, it must be something else

"I must be dreaming." I say.