You go to the supermarket & something simple like some peanut oil costs an arm and a leg.

You fill one third a tank of gas to your beat up old bomb & they take the other arm & leg.

You go home & pay the rent to the nouveau Riche landlord @ they take your genitals.

Feeling a bit woozy you you go to the doctor roll in & without looking at you he throws a handful of anti-depressants over his shoulder & tells you to get out.

On the way out you pay the disinterested doctors receptionist she takes all that’s left of you.

There’s nothing left but your disembodied spirit.

But now that your free to keep the body alive at all costs you can really appreciate how fucked up it all is.

”Boy they really really hate the working man these days” you say to yourself.

Then from behind you hear a giant vacuum machine sound.

Before you know it your sucked into a big bag with all the other disembodied working stiffs.

While doubled over inside & residing in a fold in the material you read some words written on the bag.

”Unpaid Govt Order for Tax Soul Concentration Recovery, for the Wandering Enlisted Dead”

I thought that was pretty wordy & then I looked to the other side of the bag. in big letters was the acronym.

U*G*O*T*S*C*R*E*W*E*D

I paused my mind & spirit for a minute to appreciate the perfect beauty of their all round evilness.

You gotta hand it to those bastards – they really thought of everything.

I thought to myself

“Man than Adam Smith was right! – this is what happens when no one fights for Competition in the Marketplace!

I made a pact to myself that if I was reborn into this madhouse I’d lead a bloody rebellion for that very cause.

But for now I just closed my eyes, which still felt like they were there. After all it was too late now – there was nothing else I could do but wait.