I sipped my tomato soup thoughtfully and

I sipped my tomato soup thoughtfully and peered out the window at the darkened street,comforted in knowing that all I held dear was ensconsed on our snug brick house on Elm Street.

But little did I know that that was no tomato soup, and that something was about to happen that would rock my dearly held feelings of security and heartwarming coziness. I began to

question whether I could really pay the debt of my existence. Whether I was really cut out for this world. Whether it was all really worth it. My blood sugar

was so low I became dizzy and fell on the floor. Whilst on the floor I thought I was a mouse and tried to squeeze myself into a mouse hole. When my face didn't fit I shoved my

face into a melatonin-lined duffel bag. My mouse hallucinations were linked to a broken com link beneath my dermalatice. The machinery of face has always preferred the fresh

I rattled my fingers on the armrest, wondering how to stop the mice little murderous voices. I suddenly sprang from the couch with an idea. I went to the kitchen and opened the

fridge, and took out last night's left overs. I thought if I tried to be as boring as possible, the voices in my head would leave me alone and do something else. I wondered if they

understood the implications of my boring life. One of them spoke, "Hey punk! Why not eat some more of that chicken. It was darn tasty!" I decided

not to. The Society for the Annihilation of Non Vegetarians (SANV) were looking at me funny. "Hey punk! Make my day! Eat my chicken." I looked at it. Looked at the SANV. "Nah".