Not Existing

That annoying fucking song was ringing throughout the neighborhood. He couldn’t escape it. That distinctive thumping beat, those same two lines repeated over and over again. At once he was subjected to it as he walked down the street. He looked around but couldn’t place the sound. It was steadily getting louder, getting closer, no matter which direction he ran. “I want to be an alcoholic, I want to be a shopaholic, I want to be an alcoholic, I want to shop around and frolic,” drowned out his screams. “I want to…I want to….I want to choke myself!” He passed out and the music finally died down.