I Am John Connor

Mondays isn’t the happiest word anyone would like to use. We dread Mondays. It’s the start of a working week and we’re either still hung over from the last weekends’s awesome party or just discontent about our menial existance.

Me? I just discontent about MY menial existence. I don’t feel like working today. I want a day off. Everytime I think about what happened to me last Friday, I’d sputter into tears and self-hating cries.

I still can’t get over the fact I “offended the authority” last Friday afternoon. I hate detailing the life and redemption of a squeaky-clean, boy-next-door self but this I think is absolutely necessary, at least for my own metal health -- I was served with this.



I imagine this was the work of a thuggish, amoral cop who totes a handgun and parking tickets to strike down his foes. I bet too he has a nasty drinking problem and has history of domestic violence.

I supposed these no-good doers take their orders from a mysterious loom that dictates who gets summoned and which innocent souls’ car would get towed.

My weekend was literally ruined because of them. Big mistake. I guess they just bring out the John Connor in me.

I am not gonna pay. I think.