The Dream Is Gone

My home... my kingdom.. my people have betrayed me, once again. Am I destined to be forever without the loyalty of my bretheren? First my own state patrol has the nerve, the audacity to ticket me on my way to St. Louis, and now a faux law enforcement officer has kicked me out of my sanctuary?! I'm afraid this world we inhabit does not know the meaning of the word "freedom"; if it did, then why should I be ejected from the mall for nothing more than climbing onto a food court table to extol the virtues of Chic-Fil-A? I wonder, was it my standing on the table or my use of free speech that led to my exile?

So Dystopia and I have taken refuge in Suite 3100, my home away from happiness. We are plotting together, and we will exact our revenge. Stuart Morton, Footlocker's clerk turned mall cop--you will feel the pain, the fury and the wrath that is Alfonzo Johannes Debussy. Expect more than graffiti on your car window; "tiny willy" is too good for you, Stu. Yes, expect something far worse.

That is all.