milk it
"dude, that's like, you're 5th glass of water. slow it down champ."
"well, that's you're 8th cup of coffee!"
"coffee is good for you, water is the devil's tool. only used to fool you into thinking it's 'cleaning out' your body. when infact it's stealing your soul!"
"oh hush."
anne blankly stares at jake, then slowly starts to laugh while cuping her mouth, trying to not let the water spill out. with failure of her finger dam eminent she quickly slides the glass under her mouth, leting saliva and water spill out.
"HA!" jake exlaims "i fucking told you! no soul. YOU ARE SOUL-LESS! satan has gotten you my dear child."
while she continues to laugh, anne slowly turns her eyes to the window outside the eating establishment. all she can see is a wash of orange and grey, cumbersom blocks of buildings for cumbersom lives that feed thier functions. jake notices this break from her lavishing attention on him and sees fit to snap her out of it.
"hello?"
"sorry" she half jumps in the booth "momentary lapse of--"
"oh, now don't go making me think of a friggen pink flyod record, please. that's the last thing i need. heh."
with a puzzled look, anne gives the sentence she is about to let out a minute to edit itself in her head:
"jake, hon, is there anytime you could actually detach yourself from pop culture. you're such a product of it. it's knowlage being the thing you covet, learn from and hate all at the same time."
shocked by the sudden serious tone of conversation, jake takes sometime to collect himself.
"we're all products of pop culture. sadly it's not a shock to me, to know that i am one. it makes perfect sense. why not bite the hive mind that spoon fed you? where's the harm in that. it's all metaphysics and the human condition baby."
with a heavey sigh, anne lets out "have it your way che, but you're still part of the problem untill you break a mold and start making your own drones."
"therein is the problem my dear" lighting of the all important 'thinking man's cigarette' was needed inbetween statements of revalation. "everyone's a drone making other drones. it's an endless cycle. i just try to have some fun with it."
"this coming from a man who says he hates fatalism."
"semantics."
and the combersom buildings turn thier florestent lite eyes to the two fleshy figures placed behind glass, wondering aloud to themselves what kind of meanial, boring lives they must lead.
"well, that's you're 8th cup of coffee!"
"coffee is good for you, water is the devil's tool. only used to fool you into thinking it's 'cleaning out' your body. when infact it's stealing your soul!"
"oh hush."
anne blankly stares at jake, then slowly starts to laugh while cuping her mouth, trying to not let the water spill out. with failure of her finger dam eminent she quickly slides the glass under her mouth, leting saliva and water spill out.
"HA!" jake exlaims "i fucking told you! no soul. YOU ARE SOUL-LESS! satan has gotten you my dear child."
while she continues to laugh, anne slowly turns her eyes to the window outside the eating establishment. all she can see is a wash of orange and grey, cumbersom blocks of buildings for cumbersom lives that feed thier functions. jake notices this break from her lavishing attention on him and sees fit to snap her out of it.
"hello?"
"sorry" she half jumps in the booth "momentary lapse of--"
"oh, now don't go making me think of a friggen pink flyod record, please. that's the last thing i need. heh."
with a puzzled look, anne gives the sentence she is about to let out a minute to edit itself in her head:
"jake, hon, is there anytime you could actually detach yourself from pop culture. you're such a product of it. it's knowlage being the thing you covet, learn from and hate all at the same time."
shocked by the sudden serious tone of conversation, jake takes sometime to collect himself.
"we're all products of pop culture. sadly it's not a shock to me, to know that i am one. it makes perfect sense. why not bite the hive mind that spoon fed you? where's the harm in that. it's all metaphysics and the human condition baby."
with a heavey sigh, anne lets out "have it your way che, but you're still part of the problem untill you break a mold and start making your own drones."
"therein is the problem my dear" lighting of the all important 'thinking man's cigarette' was needed inbetween statements of revalation. "everyone's a drone making other drones. it's an endless cycle. i just try to have some fun with it."
"this coming from a man who says he hates fatalism."
"semantics."
and the combersom buildings turn thier florestent lite eyes to the two fleshy figures placed behind glass, wondering aloud to themselves what kind of meanial, boring lives they must lead.