Viks was in Singapore lately and he did nothing but work, work makes a smart kid dull and when a smart kid is dull he is dead and nothing more than that. He believed his mother believed he will be this if she new he was smuggling fresh packs of Tiger beer into his room, and as he broke each can with a loud hissling whistle with the foam bubbling and smudging his lips his eyes were oggled at the exposed flesh, at the pillowed chests, at the snaking legs and the hour glass shaped hips in between of a naughty liltle vixen from FHM. He thought how grounded he would be, how his curfew would be spent but no matter, he wouldnt let this go, no he wouldnt be a mama's boy because daddy's girl was waiting. He imagined her curled plump behind bounce and jiggle when smacked and he wouldnt mind, as no man would, if she turned the other 'cheek' for another smite.She purred 'I'm a baad girl' while she nimbled his ears and suckled their lobes when he flattened his hand and straightened his fingers, readying for another spank to punish her sins and to arouse his'. And soon he was aroused to the wheeze of the heatsink fans as he realised immediately the computer was running and his work wasnt.It was a dream. A dream for ol' dull Viks. With his back curled against the backrest, his head bent exposing his throat and chin to the screen, his hands, those hands that were supposed to redden her flesh to a nice flush of crimson rose, pressed upon the back of his skull, he awoke to a chilled air conditioned daft and the placcid blank of his work bench.He glared dismissingly at the monitor before his back began to curl again, this time towards the work bench. He hung his face low,his cheeks sagged and he looked tired and felt apprehensive against the task ahead. He lifted himself, ready to continue typing.And so he went off, tapping away on the keyboard as if it mattered, crackling that cheap piece of plastic as if it was everything,impelling each letter like it was the world to him and soon realising that it wasnt all those things and so he rattled the board like an AK-47 as he wished it was pumping hot lead into the CPU that was in front of him and later realised he desired a heavier and deeper 'tat tat tat' as a real AK-47 would be and so he punched the keys harder and harder till he was in the heat of battle and the cheap plastic goo became wrecked and twisted as it would be if it were pounded by bomb after bomb after bomb.He wondered off again, this time he was deep within his work when it happened. His face was swollen into a bright cherry red. He was within the hunt, the sprint of a kill, bloodlust bloomed in his eyes. He shrugged himself,he knocked his noggin a few times to jerk the predator's spirit out of him to be dull ol' Viks again. He took a pause before pressing on. He took a deep breath. His nostrils widened and his breasts rose. His eyes shrunk into a lazy stare, rinsed off that piercing look that he had.He placed his digits on the keys again. He wanted to do it because he needed to do it yet his spirits wouldnt and so he removed his wrists from the table and reached for his wallet. He zipped it open and there was nothing in it just like there was nothing in him right now as he was dull and so he was dead and nothing more than that. He mumbled a slight whisper of protest against everything, everything within his mind that was making him pay, the bill, the food, this room and this stupid f**ked up job he had that ate his days away. He wondered if he could get off the food by eating himself, for his skin is a sweet chocolate Cadbury and thought it might be made of it.He raised his arm and took a chomp. Yes indeed he was with a delicious minty taste on the side. Then his noodles began to cook up in his skull,like the good ol genus he was, and he realised he was a perpectual motion machine, immortal as the flesh he consumed would be the flesh that was replenished.He was off the mark again. He preambulated from the path from the game he was supposed to be on. Ol' Dull Viks must come into being and be nothing again, for he needed the cash, those polymer-based paper that wasnt real paper like the hell notesthat people burnt were. No, he protested. No they were hell notes after all for he had to go through heaven and earth to get them with no real time for any heaven or worldly pleasures."No!" He burst,'No!' he screamed against this order, he wanted to be Napoleon to shook it all up . He was reaching his edge and so was getting his yearning to be a Blown-Apart with his forehead swollen his eyes bloated his skin turning from brown Cappocino roast to brimstone red. "NO!" No! He wont do this f**ked up S**t anymore for some A** that didnt know a damn about software or the hardware that came with it. He was kissing his A** and licking his B*lls before this now he wanted to kick it. He had bent more than Beckham for him, for his cash and so this made him an a** as he noticed he was rich and he was poor. As he notices he was rich and he was poor. He was poor. He took this up in a deep reckoning. A still silence stole the air, his eyes fell back into a deep blank, he was poor and he needed the greens.Work makes a smart kid dull and when a smart kid is dull he is dead and nothing more than that. Yet he needed something to be somebody and so Ol' Dull Viks died bearing the brunt with a slight grunt.