A Hell of a Mood

Well, it's been one week and 3 days since my last cigarette. I've developed quite a little attitude problem since then. I find myself wondering if this is a permanent personality shift, or if it's only a passing reaction to the lack of chemicals I once inhaled. There's a powder keg of anger and fustration inside me, and this new mood thing has put a short fuse on the little stick of dynamite that is Neko. You can see it in my eyes - a thinly veiled contempt for the world. Not so much the world as the people in it. A seething cauldron of rage just beneath the surface, threatening to erupt and spew lava on the next villager who dares to disrespect the gods. Sure, I've still got the Nicotine gum, but screw the gum. I haven't chewed a piece all week and I don't really care to. Not that the gum is a bad thing. It just takes too much effort. That's right asshole, I'm too lazy even to chew gum.

With that said, I'm not sure if this next idea arose from my new loathing for mankind, or the combination of prescription drugs swimming around in my brain. I've developed the outline for a new secret society. It would need to operate as a highly classified branch of the government. A black ops kind of thing. Deep under cover. Think of it as enforced karma. And it goes a little something like this:

The sole purpose of this organization is to manage the spread of ignorance and decline of common sense in our society. By "manage" I mean to secretly monitor and cull the herd where necessary. Said organization has 3 branches, shadowy mimics of the 3 headed beast that is our Democracy. The first branch would be the legislative arm. The second, enforcement, and the third, judicial.

There would be "scouts" from this organization mingling with the civilian population. I would use the word "undercover", but the whole damn operation is undercover. These "scouts" are keeping watch on their assigned section of the population. When an individual is observed doing something completely stupid...

** Completely stupid, here, means stopping to have a conversation about nothing right in the middle of the damned hallway that everyone else has to walk through. Or, speeding up and weaving through traffic, just to end up at the stoplight, one car ahead of their previous position. Other examples include talking on a cell phone at the sales counter, putting on make-up while driving, microwaving poodles, spitting gum on the ground for someone to step on, putting honey on a child's face just for a good photo op with bears, breaking car windows when the doors are unlocked, using the car horn as a commentary device, rather than a warning device, and so on. More on this later. **

...that individual is "tagged" with a nanobyte. The nanobyte will serve to track the individual and will be so tiny that the subject won't feel it enter their flesh after being forcefully projected from some type of blowgun thingie. Let's call the subject "Idiot Bob".

Now, the scout has done their job. It's time for the judiciary branch to move in. Their job is to monitor Idiot Bob to determine whether or not his bonehead faux pas is the result of an innocent slip up, or a symptom of chronic stupidity. If it is determined that Idiot Bob just messed up this once, monitoring is discontinued and the nanobyte is deactivated via a remote device. The nanobyte decomposes and is passed through the body as waste. The process is slightly less painful than passing a kidney stone.

But, and here's where it gets good boys and girls, if it is determined that Idiot Bob is truly a moronic asshole he is eliminated. As he's exiting Starbucks with his double frapilated half-caff mocha latte in one hand and holding his cell phone with the other, walking to his double-parked, blinding yellow H2 with the oversized tires and unnecessary radio antennae, the "K.A.R.M.A." team will pop up out of manholes, jump out from the shadows, and generally materialize. They will tackle Idiot Bob to the pavement, point their .357 Magnums, in all their matte-black glory, at his head, and send the contents of his skull sailing across the asphalt. (Big grin here)

I've got to stop here and go to lunch. But, I'll be back with more..oh yes, you can count on it!