Null felt ugly today. Ugly and small. He had woken up in one of those moods again. He wanted to destroy something. Or someone. It seemed that life had conspired, yet again, to piss him off for no reason at all. Because life was unfair. And because since the day he was born, he had been plagued with a seething _fury_ that had no rhyme or reason — it just appeared, unbidden, like the ex you broke up with six months ago who always found new ways to stalk you. Once he got in one of his moods, there was no fixing it. He’d been swept into the giant shit storm sewer that was his personal hellscape, with the grate welded firmly shut behind him.

Life was really and truly, fucking unfair.

Nevertheless, the thought of freshly brewed coffee propelled him forward, and he slumped down to the kitchen to start the kettle boiling while he prepped the French press. The complicated process of measuring, grinding and brewing the beans was a necessary hurdle he had to force himself to navigate. Null wasn’t a morning person, or even a _life_ person, but having good coffee made it almost bearable for a few minutes each day.

An eternity later, coffee mug in hand, he planted himself in front of the window. There was a man standing outside on his lawn, stupidly doing nothing. His hands were on his hips, and he appeared to be mulling something over. Something about the way his jaw was set made Null curious in that way you get when you see an anthill. Coming to some sort of decision, the man turned around and walked back towards his garage, disappearing from view.

Null lost interest and shuffled over to his laptop to check his emails. It was an automatic thing he did within 10 minutes of waking up each day. He was about to delete the usual spam that had appeared repetitiously in his inbox. Suddenly, a lawnmower started outside.

“Fucking asshole! Fucking whore!”

He pushed angrily off the recliner and stomped over to the window again.

The fucking idiot was pushing the mower diagonally across the lawn, as though being creative was going to make having a lawn any less pointless. The insipid look upon his face made Null want to smash it. Like an anthill. And he wanted to keep pounding with his fist until that complacent expression had been replaced with terror, until the man was as empty and hollow as himself.

He wanted to knock him the fuck over until his lifeless corpse lay prone on the freshly cut, useless grass.

But the dickhead would probably bounce right back into an upright position and keep on mowing his lawn. Like one of those clown punching bags. Null hated clowns. And he hated things that didn’t stay where you put them.

The incessant droning of the motor was driving him crazy. It ricocheted inside his skull and had no place to exit. His brain was almost literally vibrating. He couldn’t bear it anymore. Gritting his teeth, he stepped over to the front door and opened it, glaring helplessly at his neighbour. But the guy kept moving forward, paying no attention to Null as he stood there glowering.

_Life won’t be so pleasant when I rip off his head and shit down his neck._

He pictured himself gripping the moron firmly on either side of his vapid head and yanking upwards, but for some reason, in his mind’s eye, the head always slipped from his grasp as though it had been greased.

_Oily fucking bastard._

Null clenched his fists, then slammed the door hard. A bookshelf against the opposite wall rattled. His lip curled, he made an about face and marched over to the shelf. On the bottom row was a box with a lid. He dug around inside until he found what he was seeking: a Crosman 2300T Bolt-Action CO2 powered pellet pistol.

_Time for this day to take a turn for the fucking better._

It was high time for Null to take charge of his destiny.