Hello. I haven't written anything in a while but I decided that I might as well post the story that I had to write for extension 1 english... It isn't too bad to tell you the truth and I did actually enjoy writting something so completely angry about consumerism and capitolism... Enjoy ^_^
The people in front of me sit quietly as the big screen flickers to life. The guards keep an armed watch to “make sure” that everyone in the cramped room is glued to the television screen. This was a Wednesday so knowing my own repeating cycle of television, cheeseburgers, and sleep I was going to be subjected to watching The Simpson’s and Heartbreak Island for the next four hours of my miserable life.
The first commercial starts to play, all of them mentioning that money makes the world go round and that our government loves us. CEO’s and board official’s parade on and off the screen, announcing new laws and legislations that they have put into place since the last bi-monthly meeting. These laws were put in place to supposedly help us all get through life. My personal belief is that they want us all to go to hell faster then what we would have if he had our own choice. The next commercial flashes forth with the message of an American Express card with 0.1% interest for the next year and a half if you sign up in the next three days.
These things frustrate me so thoroughly. These teenage hormones of mine keep urging my body to escape from my cross-legged on the floor of my school gym. As I look around the room everything about it has changed. Large stereos have replaced the former equipment that had lived in each corner of the room and a massive subwoofer lies in the very centre of what I once knew as a place to play capture the flag, The walls had all been smoothed over and painted white, not one trace of the former rock climbing wall and bricks existed anymore. Projection machines have replaced both sets of basketball hoops so that the glaring pieces of crap had somewhere to sit. They had even put in five rows of chairs so that the teachers and senior students have somewhere to sit their high and mighty selves on.
This was at first a form of joy for all of the fat kids at school. They were in heaven for a while at least. But even they have finally gotten sick of it all as they are starting to have difficulty rolling away.
The next commercial glides onto the white washed walls. Every commercial break I see this stupidity at least twice. It’s the global set of rules. The main legislation that I have to follow in order to survive. There are five seemingly simple rules but somehow they have made so very many peoples lives a living hell:
1. You will eat three square fast food meals a day
2. You will watch four hours of television a day. Three of those hours must be spent watching reality television.
3. Exercise is expressly forbidden and anyone caught partaking in abnormal physical activity will have both legs broken.
4. All children over the age of twelve will have two credit cards on them at all times. No exceptions.
5. Anyone that resists the government in any way will be dealt with in the harshest possible manner. No mercy shall be shown to those we have deemed as traitors.
I remember the days when I could eat a garden salad without fear of prosecution. I truly wish that I could have the option of eating something other than Hungry Jacks or KFC every day of the week. But I doubt that I will see those days come back. The punishment of involuntary participation in the reality television shows that government fund really are a bit of a downer to starting a revolution.
The guard patrolling the area that I am seated in notices that I seem not to be paying any attention to the program that seeps into the back walls being transmitted through the stale projectors and blaring stereos. He cocks his gun towards me and pretends to blow my head off. The thing is that I know only one of the six guards in the room actually has bullets. I almost laugh when I realise that not one of them actually would kill someone my age anyway.
I turn back to the screen and watch the unreality show. Heartbreak Island is currently running through its opening credits, and it’s up to its sixth season on the air. I look at the host that wanders across the stage and pray that her intelligence surpasses the last five hosts. I remember watching them all attempting to help the former contestants escape or survive their brief stay on the island. I also remember watching Judge Judy conducting the trials of each and every host. She sent them all onto another reality show. Guess what method of execution today. It wasn’t the most pleasant thing to have to watch on a Saturday but you know it’s was all for entertainments sake. Or at least that is how the government tries to put it.
I remember the first time that Heartbreak Island premiered. The contestants walked across the stage, head held up high and all of them thought that they had accomplished something by being on that stage. Most of them had simply defied eating a meal or they had left there wallets at home when they passed an inspection booth. Stupid little things like that had them sent here. But they were still proud as punch to be standing centre stage. There rap sheets were read and then they were sent off into the deep jungles of the former island country of Cuba. They were sent out with little more than a machete, one gun fill with a set of rounds, and enough water and food to last them a week. The fourteen contestants never stood a chance. The only way to survive for the ten weeks that they are stuck on the island is to kill everyone else.
Then they had two options at the end. One, to be accepted back into the society that they had come from as long as they agreed never to defy the government again. Two was the more popular choice. A swift bullet to the temple.
This time instead of pride on the contestants faces this time. I saw the overwhelming levels of fear on their faces and frustration. The new host was a former news reader only that since the government had banned any form new program her sense of self esteem and her superiority complex seemed to have dissipated.
The blonde woman’s large loose curls swished in time with her hips and when she settled at the end of the line to introduce the official sent to watch over the proceedings, I had to gag myself in order not to laugh hysterically.
Harsh as this might sound I really find this entire process hilarious. These people that have done everything to defy our overlords from the fiery reaches of hell have in fact given them the biggest hand up ever. The government had a never ending supply of victims and they would forever make the shows that stop me and most other people from rebellion. This time the contestants went off kicking and screaming one being shot before they even made it off the stage.
I hear the lines “and next week on Heartbreak Island” and zone out into my own little world. I see a meal placed in front of me and shudder at the thought of sticking it into my mouth. All I can do now is wonder what I could do to get my mind off of the sad situation in front of me. I start to remember the days of free flowing vegetables and apple juice, dreaming of the day when I can enjoy those simple luxuries again.
I don't know how well I have actually edited it but you never know I think that it's fine anyway lol ^_^
 Salt-Encrusted-Servitude · Tue Dec 09, 2008 @ 01:53am · 0 Comments |
