I got into an anarchist commune and started smoking hash and going to dance clubs. But one day someone died in a mosh pit, and they said it was my fault. Now I'm on the run for a crime I didn't commit, at least I don't think I did because I was so high at the time. I don't really care anyway.
Life is a big meaningless bowl of spit.
But I'm still running. I went into a gun shop and tried to buy some heat. I'd like a .22 caliber or something, I like want to go hunting dude. You don't scare me, I've seen people with green hair and axes sticking out of their heads before. I punched him and he dropped dead.