'It's the way of the world, I'm afraid' Jack thought to himself as he passed a demonstration against people with alligator tattoos. The world descended into madness one day; no one really remembers when it started, but then again, most people don't remember what happened last Thursday. So history class has been replaced with a class centered around expressing your feel(ing)s through dank memes. Their words, not mine. Don't give me that look. Jack was (un)fortunate enough to have been give an actual education in history, so he sees the world today and he drinks, oh how he drinks. So he sits, and he drinks, and he pushes people away. And every day he grows a little colder watching the beast with many names devour humanity whole.
People always fear the supernatural or statistically improbable, but it's really man, himself, that can act the most demonic. Jack wished he could be Van Helsing, but the planet would be a barren wasteland if he fully succeeded. So he hates himself for being strong enough to resist but too weak to change anything.
Jack met Jill one day and time seemed to stand still. They were the best of times, but soon would come the worst of times. Jack always believed he would die alone, hell, he always felt alone; 'so what difference would it make'? None until Jill came into the picture. The true director's cut. It's just too bad for Jack that his was like all other films - containing an all too quickly approaching ending. The curtain call on happiness, is how he put it when Jack found out the hand he was dealt was actually a live grenade. Oh my God. Holy s**t. No really, it was just the death of his every hope and dream: the day that they came. The day that he failed to save Jill. He couldn't heal the bullet holes with his tears as they fell onto her lifeless body.
'If only there was a way to go back...I'd have stayed home that day. I'd have been the one riddled with bullet holes...' was a thought that Jack had more and more over the years, as he grew colder, older and more cynical. His drinking progressed to dope, like his hero William S. Burroughs. He felt so cold inside that there were still icicles hanging from his heart in the middle of Summer. The pain gnawed him to the bone; the regret, his soul.
One day we're here, the next maybe we're not. Enjoy what you've got while you've got it, or one day you'll end up like Jack. Who one day found his way into parliament with explosives for a vest. He couldn't take one more day as a husk of a human being. With a dead man's switch prepared, Jack began to give his speech: "We are not good men...we are not even human. We're not even a faded image of our ancestors - we are the painted up mutant w****s of history. We are the joke that history is laughing at. We are the jackass, the fool, the who cares about that f****t s**t? 'Amen and step on the gas!'"
Around the country atrophied minds tingled in confusion and suddenly forgot the whole ordeal until the next day. That's when Bear63 news broke the story of a terrorist attack on parliament with 33 dead and 67 injured. Rumors began to circulate that Jack didn't actually die that day. That he snuck out of town and into the mountains to plot his next move. Whether or not there's any hint of truth to these rumors, no one really knows, but one thing is for certain: desperate men commit desperate acts and desperate times create desperate men.
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