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Shattered Glass Soup

The suicide mission was unsuccessful, and the new year begins. Oh, joy of joys! We have yet another chance to start over, after pitching a ceramic elephant through the sliding glass door, then body-slamming the computer and scanner a few times. Love, a deadbeat dad, is such a vicious and cruel companion. He is always oversleeping, late getting to work, late getting home, and never around when you want him. Don't tell Love, but the management is seriously thinking about firing him.

Thick pea-soup fog covers up the damages, and my stomach growls in time with the breakfast cereal commercials. The cardboard that is taped over the hole will never keep out the freeze that is forthcoming. We have been sentenced to a lifetime of anxiety and violence. After all, isn't this the age of discontent? Maybe I will spend the rest of the year in the garage, chainsmoking on a cold eight-dollar sweatshop-made fold-up chair.