I am sitting here at 5:12 in the morning on a Saturday, bored to
death and I decided to write a fic. Well, I'm a morbid person at
times and I decided to write a morbid fic. It's short and kind of
messed up, but I hope you like it
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You enjoy it, don't you? Watching us bleed for your sake? In some
strange way, I think you get off on it. You sit there, smoking your
cigars, eyeing us and knowing that we will remain socially beneath
you. How heartless can you be to just watch while thousands of
people are ill and dying at your expense? You use that money for
another bear skin rug while a family could survive off of it. It
still doesn't matter, does it? I knew it wouldn't.
You like that fancy suit you're wearing, don't you? A girl
sacrificed her arm in a mill to have that made for you. But it was
worth it, I'm sure. Those shoes look rather comfortable. You want to
know the ironic thing? The boy that sold those to you leaves a trail
of blood wherever he goes, because his lack of shoes has worn his
feet to the bone. You didn't care? Well, frankly, I don't give a
damn what you care about.
How many employees do you have? Hundreds? Thousands?… Oh, really?
That's a lot of people. You must have the decency to at least treat
them with respect. What's that you said? You don't owe them
respect. I'd hate to break it to you, well…actually I am enjoying
this, but without every last one of them, you'd be shit out of luck.
There are people surrounding you every day, as you go to work, as
you come home, and everywhere in between, that haven't eaten in days
or can't breathe because their bodies are too sick to let them.
There are families that have to live in buildings that reek of sweat
and illness, sharing bathrooms with half a dozen other families in
the same situation. Oh, yes, illness has a smell. Its hard to
describe but once you get it in your system, you never forget it.
You've been pampered every day of your life. I'd be surprised if
you've ever even had a cold.
Why are you laughing? You can't stay at the top. The only place for
you to go is down. It's odd that that was the only bit of reality
that caught your attention and seemed to choke the life out of you
for a second there. It's true though. I may be at the bottom now,
but I can work my way up. I plan to work until my hands bleed and my
eyes are tired and bloodshot. And, when I do and you are cold and
sick, reaching your hand out to me for help, I'll just take a puff
from my cigar and turn away while you fade into nothingness.
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Alright, so there it is. It kept me occupied for a little
while...now to think of what else to do. DOWN WITH INSOMNIA!
Stretch