Dimitri Fletcher (oppressed) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2008-08-28 00:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | alexander moore, communism |
Who: Communism and Alexander Moore
Where: Handy bench near Central Park, across from a Starbucks
When: Wednesday evening
Rating: TBA
It had been an interesting, if tedious, day at work. One of the smaller unions under the umbrella that Communism represented had decided to go on strike and even though it was one of the lesser known factions, he was sent to go over the initial negotiations. As the fallen god walked down the street, his long legs easily overtaking the mortals surrounding him, he marveled at what the bourgeoisie were attempted to get away with, even in this day and age where fair labour laws had been passed years ago. This company didn't even give adequate health benefits! Communism was still fuming quietly as he glided quickly through the crowds with a grace that looked somewhat out of place on his lanky form.
Pushing his rather tedious thoughts about labour regulations out of his head, he found a nice, handy bench and took a seat, pulling out the tentative proposal and lighting a cigarette as he began to look it over. Pulled out of his work for a moment, he gazed across the streets to see a Starbucks; selling the mortals their daily $4.00 jolt. The dislike was obvious in his eyes as he reached for his thermos, which he'd filled with coffee before he left the office. What was it with mortals these days? Didn't they see the homeless person begging for spare change on the sidewalk right by the coffee shop? Didn't walking by him with exorbitantly expensive coffee make them feel even just a little bit guilty?
The blatant display of consumerism made him feel wrong, like there was something inherently bad about the world around him. And in Communism's view, there was. The people were alienated from their labour, numbed by drugs; legal or otherwise, fattened by unhealthy fast food and were brainwashed to believe that they'd feel that much better about themselves by purchasing that new gizmo or that nice pearl necklace. Focusing his eyes back on the proposal, he smoked quickly in the hope of relieving that 'wrong' feeling, but as always, it didn't work and wouldn't until Communism had fixed the world. At the rate people were pouring in and out of that Starbucks, it didn't look like he'd be fixing the world any time soon.