I am a lonely rich man. A man who carries an umbrella for work every day. It is not strange at all. No, to come prepare against the roaches of the world. A feature that I wore proudly. A badge of honor against the degrades of society. Indeed I am the top of my class and women loves me for I bring home the bacon. They swarm around me like bees allured to my lovely nectar. Oh, how sweet is the things I made in life. My million dollar car. My millionaire home. My chihuahua.

A lonely life is never fair. Diffidently, I screw them all. The poor pisses me off. Though I am a lonely rich man, no one dares to label me with their ilk. I'll tell them what to believe. Your livelihoods filled with many obstacles. Not mine. I'll scoff you off like the maggots you are. I was a man who deliberately sided against the the nay sayers. Because a man like me is too good for them. It was for the best. Yes, the best of both worlds. Stomping them like roaches and making them to lick my boots!

"Quit dreaming idiot!" The manager attacked.

"Y-yes sir, sorry sir." . . . . . Hmmph, who does he think he is. I am more handsome than that OG fart. My college life had seen better warriors in the ways of working. He is a maggot that I must deal with like the roaches before me. Not even working and telling me to do his darn dirty job, pigging away at the fat ladies. His taste is awful. Bleh! He pisses me off. I am going to make his day worse.

"You idiot!! What the hell did you just do?!" a voice was raised beside me.

I forgot, there was someone nearby. A partner in crime. Oops. To stick my industrial sock into the machine over did it and I was fire from my job. Duck them!

I spent three days doing nothing. Surfing the internet and looking at corns. Pathetic! It was boring. The same old flip one after another. Everything is fake. So I decided to enjoy my afternoon at a ramen shop. I heard from a neighbor it was some good stuff unlike corns. I got high hopes for it so I head there on my washed-up bicycle taken from a kid down the block. The station was not that far from me where the store is located. Time to enjoy the eve.

There was only nine seats available and I was lucky to fill the last. But why does it has to be in the middle between two fat ugly men. Why the hell is everyone so obese? Where are all the pretty girls who loves chef's special ramen? It did got me thinking later that the ramen must really be that good because of their obesity and I rush to ring an order. Alas, . . . was it brought. My mouth watered. The size was humongous with many toppings. Oh, the price was right.

"Thank you for the food." Despite how I look, I do thank the unseen forces.

It took about twenty minutes before I could finish my meal listening to the chef's radio. An opera performance was more interesting than the city news shown in the television. Boy, was the food great. Slurping and suckling those juicy fat on the meat like it was an exotic woman in ecstasy. And I went for seconds. The belly was filled alright. I was satisfied until my old boss pops in. I can't believe it.

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He saw me in the middle sitting the nearest to the doorway. I can hear him speak casually insulting me as the topic was brought up. My hand is holding the composure. The anger was strong and did I try to ignore it by looking at one of the fat man's nipple ring. The left fatty from my end of course. Better not to see the boss. But it wasn't long that he said something that snapped me. I left the ramen shop instead of making a scene.

"Pssk! No one understands me." The sun had set. Taking my time walking the empty street kicking a can around. It was the only thing to amuse me. I didn't feel like going home. The empty park in the night seems more alluring when I passed it by.

A soft wind blue that gave me chills. I was staring into the city skyline. The bench was the only comfort I have. It was quiet of voices and I was glad until a bunch of teenagers showed up. Looks like the baseball club and their cheerleaders scouting the area for hobos sleeping under bushes and tarps. I was mistaken as a hobo and was beat up from behind. I've respond.

These brats were talking nonsense, longer than what I expect, bored with nothing to do in the late evening. Have one spout stupidly that it is a new game to beat up hobos. What the hell is this?! The new trend of playing knock-out in the east?! How degrading is the society.

"You damned cockroaches!" I yelled. They weren't afraid of me. Going on that they have some immunity from the law and political groups. Duck them! Before I knew it, I was battling a bunch of kids while they mocked me. Every insult I could possibly imagine for adults. From blackmail to sexual assault. So I attack instead of waiting. The confrontation was pain staking long. Very little were against their ideas of fun. The cockiest was the high school weightlifter.

Despite all that effort, I was beat up bad. My face was numbed. The bats they brought did the work. Lucky shots from out of my peripheral vision. Not just twice but multiple times. I've lost count of it. Those stupid fake martial arts and sounds produced by the kids are pitiful. I was dying and the kids perform another idiotic act with the last words I heard, "He'll be alright." That was indeed the last. I have faint probably from blood loss.

The minutes I was out cold felt like an eternity. I should've just went to meet God. Randomly walking to nowhere a bench came to view. My legs felt truly exhausted. If this strange dream brought a bench, I might as well sit. The night skyline with a hint of the hiding sun was a beautiful one. So pleasant to calm myself.

Hearing the water rushing, my mind is awake. I was troubled by the two realm that I am in. My mind shifting uncontrollably back and forth from this dream and reality. The sound of the river pull me back to life.

"I haven't cross the river." It made me think. Thinking too much that I didn't realize I was in some kind of bootleg tent. The smell was strong of liquor and bodily fluid. I couldn't move my arms. Both limbs were paralysis from how I was laid. There was not much light but I figure there was someone else in my presence.

"Goodness. You're the first ever to get beaten by the youth brigade."

"What are you talking about?" Youth brigade? Is this some kind of joke the old man says to excite a guest?