“You’ve got to think differently, goddamnit!”

The man had been standing on the corner of the street all day, yelling at anyone who would listen. Where were the authorities? How was he still here?

“Everyone in this fucking city hates. There’s no trust! Y’all are so fucking narrow-minded you can’t accept anyone else, and then you backstab each other! You, sir, should be ashamed! And you, m’am!”

Maybe because he was right. This city was corrupted beyond all repair. The police only worked to steal guns, the citizens mobbed regularly, and the military never intervened.

This place really is a shithole.

“There’s no magical savior. There’s no fucking Jesus. You guys have to figure things out on your own! Take the hatred away! Do something nice for a change!”

The hobos finally rise, armed with splintered boards and nails. This is their street, and they want it back. As one, they chase after him and beat him to death. They mash his bloody corpse into the sidewalk.

The street is quiet. All is as it was.