succat
The guy selling you the box of Newports at your corner store, running you your daily lotto ticket, and expertly wrapping your cheap liquor bottle in a small crumpled paper bag so that you can drink it on your stroll home without fear of five 0. The guy counting your food stamps and selling you a 25 cent pie so that the 75 cents can go towards your cigarettes and booze. The guy counting your hundreds of pennies patiently, processing your food vouchers, and enduring your dissatisfaction with the system that supports your sense of entitlement and laziness - as you drive off in your new blazer. The guy who said enough to the slums and shallow minds, enough to the clowns congregating in smoking circles before their breaks are over, cursing and spitting and juggling ideas of nonsense in their futile exchanges. Enough to the schools and useless lectures and classes, enough to the academic environment filled with slaves burdened down with loans and heavy packs of books bending their backs. Enough to the corporate world, enough to the fellow ladder crawlers climbing ever higher while kicking your face on the way up. The guy who said enough to the bosses who only talk and never work and yet expect acknowledgment. Enough to the cubicle prison systems filled with drones who cannot think of anything higher; enough to a system that always takes and hardly gives and never has your interests at heart.