One man is enjoying his dinner, his carton-with-sugar, the way he calls his cereal. The protesters are marching outside his house. Someone almost tears apart his door and starts shooting inside. He tries to put his thoughts together as he listens more people breaking into his house by the second floor. He jumps out through a tiny window, running for his life, dressed only in pink panther boxers.“None of this has any sense. How could I be in this situation? What the hell is this situation? Fuck, I am running from who-the-hell-knows. I think fast. First, I needed another place to… well… to think.”