[Clipart] TV in Trash

[Clipart] TV in Trash

TVintrash

“God, I’m just so sick of the Man, man!” Aiden shouted into the uncaring void of his $1100-a-month downtown studio. “Consumerism is, like, destroying this planet, man! All these Kardashians and Trumps and shit, man! Like, I don’t even watch TV.”

Aiden eyed the 30” CRT that sat atop the cinder block shelf at the front of the room.

“Yeah. I never watch TV. In fact… I don’t even need a TV at all!”

Aiden walked over to the television, wrapped his arms around it, and heaved the 30 pound hunk of plastic and glass off of the shelf.

“I… I haven’t even…” Aiden wheezed, “…even touched… a television… in 10 years…”

Aiden waddled across the apartment toward the kitchen.

“It’s… it’s just a way… for… for the corporations… to indoctrinate you… into their capitalist cults…”

Aiden loosened his grip and the appliance tumbled into the trashcan, crumpling the flimsy aluminum.

“That’ll… that’ll show you… you corporate fat cats,” Aiden said. “In fact, I don’t even use the internet!”

Aiden walked to the couch and grabbed the Macbook Air that was laying on the cushion charging. He held the white slab over his head and lobbed it across the room. It clattered across the floor. Aiden curb stomped the computer, shattering the case. He grabbed the warped remains and shoved them into the trashcan with his former TV.

“I don’t need corporations enslaving me with their social media! I’m not gonna whore myself out for likes and retweets, man!” Aiden reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Same with this thing! Nothin’ but tiny shackles, man!”

Aiden snapped the thin plastic brick in half and placed it on top of the TV. He pulled out his wallet and held it above his head.

“Man! This is the worst of all, man! Money is, like, a contract with the devil, man! Well, like, I’m revoking that contract, man!”

Aiden stuffed his wallet down the drain and turned on the garbage disposal. The machine shrieked as it tried to slice its way through the layers of paper, plastic, and faux leather.

“Man… this sink is from the Man… and this electricity… and these walls…” Aiden looked on in terror. “The Man is everywhere, man! It’s like this entire apartment is…”

Aiden dove to the floor, swung open the cabinet door, and rummaged through the assortment of chemicals that populated the space beneath his sink. He grabbed a can of roach spray.

“God damn it, man! This is from the Man, too… well, I guess this time I’M the one using the Man, man.”

Aiden fumbled around in his pocket and pulled out a lighter made of transparent green plastic. He struck a light and sprayed the bug spray through it, spewing flames across the room. This temple to the decadent exploitation of the masses would soon be capitalism’s tomb.

“Hasta la vista, man.”

Aiden tossed the can onto the floor, stripped away his clothes, and walked from the smoldering apartment. He was a new man. A free man, unfettered by the bonds of consumerism. The Man had ruined the lives of generations of innocents people across the globe, and it was time for him to take the fight to the Man, man.

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