All the people were unhappy and miserable – the product had been compromised and what could be worse than that? The product had been seriously compromised and everyone was dismayed and distraught. It had finally happened – the negative outcome that many of us had feared but which none of us had ever dared mention. I’m sitting here drinking the product out of a can. It’s good, I tell myself. It’s very good. It’s unusual and at the same time it’s refreshing. It makes everything feel okay, just for a few moments. Just for a few precious moments. I’m drinking the product straight out of the can and I’m taking my time, savouring the moment, and yet at the same time I know that something is wrong, very wrong. So, so wrong. Everything is so right and yet at the same time it couldn’t be more wrong.

Those precious few moments are quickly gone, aren’t there? They’re gone before you know it, to be quite honest. Gone forever. There’s just you and the product – it’s an intimate moment you know and I’m not being funny when I say that. It’s important to be delicate when broaching awkward subjects but I’m just not very good at that. I’m the kind of guy who always puts his foot in it, but I do mean well at least. Only I don’t, not really. I don’t mean well at all. My heart is full of malice these days – dark, dark malice. It’s because I’m not good at taking responsibility for my own emotional shit.

I’m sitting here in the comfort of my own kitchen, eating the product straight out of the tin. I’m not one for the niceties I’m afraid. Never one for the niceties. I’m shoving great forkfuls of it down my throat and gulping it down as fast as I’m able, almost choking myself in the process. I’m blue in the face, blue with anoxia. I’m in a desperate hurry to get it into me you see. I’m the same about everything. The product doesn’t taste as good as it usually does, I notice. It has a sour, unwholesome taste and I can’t help wondering if it has become contaminated by some sort of industrial accident that no one will ever admit to. These accidents happen all the time you know. The product is not right, I say to myself, it doesn’t satisfy in the way that it usually does. The sweat is standing out of my forehead in great beads and I’m starting to feel distinctly queasy. The product is a bit of a disappointment, I reflected sadly. You can’t rely on anything these days…

I had a dream last night in which luminescent beings were trying to transmit cosmic knowledge to me but none of it made the slightest bit of sense. It was pure gobbledegook and I found it irritating more than anything else. Bellowing with rage and frustration, I thrashed around in the soupy darkness of my own deranged mind. I wanted to inflict my pain and despair on someone else but there was no one else there. There was only me. This made me more enraged and frustrated than ever of course. I had become a demon, trying to break through into the human realm. Then eventually, after what seemed like an eternity of horror,  I woke up and realised with relief that I wasn’t a demon at all. I was just an ordinary guy, that’s all. Just an ordinary, average guy. I’m not evil, I told myself, I’m just an ordinary guy who had a bad dream after eating a contaminated batch of product…