Suit trip.
By DC & JCP

This place was filling up with blood fast, and it didn’t matter if no one else could see it; I could. The smell of it was filling my head and drastic measures would have to be taken if I didn’t escape this fast.

"We have to go. GO!" I tell Mike, the man in the shirt. Thankfully he nodded. If he hadn’t, I would have had to crawl out of there on my hands and knees.

"It’s the only way to escape." He agreed.

I wondered if he could see the blood too but decided not to ask. As long as we were leaving there was no need to discuss such things in polite conversation. Besides, the birds were listening and it’s never wise to reveal too much to them at any given time.

This suit felt strange on me, like it was trying to squeeze me out of it and into my shoes.
My god, I thought, was it trying to kill me?

Such things have happened before and who’s to say it woudn’t happen again? Things go in circles don’t they, just around and around until we’re all fucked up and don’t know which way to go. Things have to change and the first thing would be this suit. This evil suit of doom and reeking of the system and the man. THE man. This escape is dragging on and it's unbearable.

"If we’re going to do this," I say outloud, "we have to do this now."

Standing up proved to require more effort than I had thought, and I had to shove myself out of my seat. Mike stared at me and then laughed. Bastard, I thought, he’s got everything under control over there and here I am struggling in this evil suit to get up and leave this blood filled place.
Was he part of this evil plot?

Eying him, I’m not sure what to do next besides stand there until the blood fills to my neck and forces me to swim. Finally getting his fat ass up, he gives me a smile and turns.
"Follow me."

Normally I wouldn’t stand for such demands but considering the situation, there wasn’t much else I could do but follow. I’d rebel in outside maybe or in the car. I’d demand some answers and maybe some new clothes too. Who had put me in this suit to begin with? I blame society and THE man. Interviews with THE man. That’s what had happened. Demanding to know who I am, what I do and who it benefits.

When presented with such questions, who really has answer? The words I had said escape me now. Who knows what had happened there. Perhaps the suit had squeezed answers out of me. That was how they did it. The suit makes me tell them what they want to hear. Bastards, the lot of them. The suits and THE man.

In the car I can feel it again squeezing into me, trying to push out secrets and the meaning of my life. Struggling, it took both me and Mike several minutes to peel it from my throat.

"Shit man you’re all fucked up. Settle down." Mike laughed at me.

"Go on and laugh you bastard. You’ll see how it is when you get trapped in one. We’ll see who’s laughing then."

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