Normal He had the quintessential face; I didn't like it. It fit in too much. I could already picture his voice - friendly and a little too high - and picture his life: hard working, dull, not extraordinary. This man represented everything I hated, everything I never wanted to become.. I won't fit into this eternally recycled and worn-out mold. I felt violent all of a sudden. I'm normally peaceful, calm - but right now I could just flail out at him and whack him right in the face. To teach him a lesson: stop being so normal. His normal wife. His normal hair. His normal job. His normal... Normal. I needed drugs to hit his normal. He probably used to be a cool guy, or hip back in his day, and he too never thought he'd become Normal. His life is over. His kids will continue on the tradition of Normal, and so on. But if you don't become normal, you're ostracized, alienated, abandoned, forgotten, to be dealt with the hands of the law. But I'd still rather not be normal. I'd rather be dead; I'd rather be me.