Four felons sidled up next to him riding

Four felons sidled up next to him riding hover dogs. Why the manufacturer hadn't made horses was not a question that currently concerned him, but would ultimately save his life.

Too bad he was suicidal. He ripped the fuel lines out of the hover dogs. He jump started a speeder he stole from a storm trooper. It had an Eagle Eye Cherry sticker on it which he

thought to peel off but didn't, to remind himself of damnation. Storm troopers had odd taste in music, but then, who knows what actually filtered through those helmets. The speeder

accelerated to make the light and he soon could not hear the music anymore. He was getting a bit hungry and looked at the unpeeled fruit in front of him with a renewed dedication

to the land, to the farmers who grew that fruit. He'd always wanted to be a farmer - someone who could wear checked shirts and hats without ridicule, all action, no talk, like

his great grandpa who'd out lived most of his grandchildren. He longed to try out the cow tipping tips Gams had taught him. But being a city boy he decided to try those skills on

Fred, who worked two cubicles over. He waited until Fred took his usual 2:30-3:30 nap and crept up from the back of his rolling chair. Barely able to hold back the giggles, he

set off the CO2 fire extinguisher directly on the back of Fred's head and roared with laughter. When the extinguisher ran dry he waited for Fred to laugh. Slowly Fred's head tilted

foward and he slowly turned to look back. His face wasn't one of humour, it was full of anger, full of hate, a face with blood-shot eyes looking for the culprit. Jeez...'Fred,