Sad Blart : Fall Cop

Chapter 8 - Noise

I've moved on. Continued to survive. Protection is the reason why I'm, alive. That might be my purpose. To fight. For survival. For the greater good. The struggle must go on. There is no end in sight. I feel nothing more than emptiness. My passion fading. Is there hope? Inside lays another outlet for self-loathing. I exist to serve my purpose. My existence is fruitless. Not worth the effort. Customers shop, chat and have fun. At this very moment, they are unaware of the suffering we Mall Cops endure. I exist to keep people safe. I follow orders. That's it. I hear voices every day. "Good Morning!" I pull a fake smile as I ride my Segway. "Thanks..." "Have a good one ma'am" Have a great day." "Good day to you, sir." My voice is automated. I ignore everyone's words. My eyes are fixed on women's bodies. "You okay?" A lady asks me. "I'm fine," I tell her honestly. "Well, have fun. She says. "Thank you. You too." I smile softly as she strolls away.

Then i notice that the Mall today is packed. The sound is deafening. Shoppers racing around. It's impossible to find quiet or solitude within the constant chit-chat. Every breath is heavy and suffocating. Sweat oozes from my face. My mind is drowning in trauma. The thoughts of sorrow lay in my heart. I am nothing more than a stupid piece of garbage. Who needs love? Who needs kindness? What's the goal? Safety? A pointless endeavor? No. This is what I am. Nothing more than a bozo meant to listen to fools. I'm just a machine with no point and decency to speak of.

Then I hear something...."Hey, fat ass!" A young kid shouts. "Stop standing there!" The words are spoken toxically with cruelty and anger. Pure contempt. I recoil in cringe. My skin crawling. Damn kids. Especially that boy. He is everything I have disdain for. The very thing that makes me sick. I'd rather live hell than endure this young beast. I'm trapped. Every breath is a mistake. A vile putrid waste of air. None of it matters. My Hypoglycemia is getting worse anyway. I need sugar. My throat screams with every exhale. My lungs are on fire. The kid passes by. Glaring at me. "Is little piggy gonna stop standing by?" The kid says laughing. There is not an ounce of respect within him. Not a single grain. This whole thing is all so loud and chaotic. It's too much for a man like me. Too much for a pathetic waste. So what can a man like me do? He shakes in anger before stepping outside to get some fresh air and forget this one bad day...