Era una mañana de invierno fría, gris y

Era una mañana de invierno fría, gris y cargada de añoranza. Llegué a la estación a las 8:30 y, como cada día, me senté frente al gran ventanal y observé el mundo exterior...

pass me by. I saw the gray buildings smeared with graffiti that I saw everyday as I commuted on the El. Suddenly, I saw my portrait stenciled in bright-green and orange. "SUBMIT!"

What the..? How the hell did they get that picture of me? How... Why.. THAT picture? Really? They need a portrait for their fascist propaganda and they choose the picture my sister

took at my eighth birthday party? I cringed, remembering the incident. I glared a them, shoving the picture towards their smug faces. "Explain this," I said. They simply laughed in

controllably until their heads fell off backwards and blood sprayed from their necks improving the colour of the previously grey and boring public lavatory. My

goodness it was colorful in there! Since no-one was looking (any more, obviously), I hacked out a portion of the lavatory wall and attempted to sell it as art. It was picked up

by some artsy fartsy Mook for his "Shaker Heights Mansion".

This house was bright red and had no tomatoes in the back yard. He grew veggies inside a greenhouse instead, unknown to the Food Police, who knew he never used food rations up.

Donating them to the local scurvy foundation instead. It was upon their 10th raid that the Food Police found the greenhouse in the basement of the bright red building. He was using