I give a great deal of thought to destroying my computer. It's not that it is a bad computer, it's just that I hate my job.
I imagine it in detail, fantasizing almost sexually of the great pleasure I would derive from destroying it.
It begins with a punch straight to the center of the monitor.
Direct and to the point.
The loud crack of the screen drowns out the sound of the base scraping across the desk.
Cracks erupt across the screen fracturing the smooth display and draining the crystal pixels of their strange fluid creating a rainbow pattern.
Blood drips from my knuckles, but I hold it against the screen with its sharp angles and electrical currency.
I savor the moment... holding on to it for as long as possible...
... knowing that it won't change a damn thing.
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