Matty rolled his eyes and took a sip, “At least we haven’t gone full-on Orwellian.”

“What, talking communist farm animals?”

Matty shot an incredulous look, “You read Animal Farm?”

“Well,” John offered with a shrug, “there was this cartoon version, and…”

“Doesn’t matter,” Matty waved off the explanation, “I meant 1984.”

John only offered a dumb look.

Matty sighed but glanced at the door as two black suited men slipped in quietly, “The movie was before your time, apparently. I just meant it’s not that bad. You should lighten up and let it go.”

“No,” shot John, breaking from his literary allusion induced stupification, “I will not let it go. The country…no, the whole world has gone wrong. Somebody has to do…” His tirade stopped before it really got going as one of the well dressed men pressed a metal cylinder to his neck.

As John collapsed into their waiting arms, Matty could only go back to his drink and mutter, “It’s a shame, a darn shame…not that I’m protesting, gentlemen. I’m good.”