The World Vs Richard Young

He watched the countless windows of various office buildings fly by and hated the architects who first thought up the concept for office buildings. He watched the content wandering people of the city walk by and hated them. He briefly watched a man sitting on a bench and in the two seconds the man was in his sights he recognized that not only was this man a better sandwich maker than he was, but also that this man was enjoying his sandwich much more than Fletcher ever had. He hated the man. A fairly disgusting blotchy sound interrupted his sightseeing, a large seagull had dumped its load in perfect timing to splat on the windshield of the taxi he was seated in, resulting in many curses from the driver. He hated the driver, he was not going to tip him. The driver attempted to clean the large liquidy white excrement from the windshield with his shitty window wipers, Fletcher hated the streaks being left behind. The taxi was out of window washing fluid and the smears now covered nearly all visibility for the driver. Fletcher thought about how he liked window washing fluid but hated the cab for having none. The cabbie had miscalculated how much of a turn was required to hit the right lane as they jogged left on a yellow. Fletcher hated the streetlights. The cab crashed through a very successful tie manufacturer’s store, a tie rack previously sitting perpendicular to the sidewalk outside pushed its way through the windshield and as the car came to rest atop a sales clerk pushed its way through the drivers chest and into the back seat next to Fletcher. Fletcher experienced whiplash for the first time in his life and was unimpressed with the amount of pain actually felt by it. He stared at the driver now gasping for air through deflated lungs and estimated that he only had about four gasps left before death fell upon the man. He hated the colours on this rack of ties. He exited the vehicle with nothing more than a scraped knee and hated the crushed sales clerk for getting to die before he did. He stared at the crowd of growing curious onlookers and do-gooders trying to save the two helpless men. He hated heroes.