Brexit

Cheers to a great war.

It was a normal day for Ian McIntyre. Getting up in his small apartment, cooking himself some tantalizing eggs and getting himself ready for work, his peaceful status quo. The higher ups had ordered that they needed more food than usual, so food it was. He grabbed his clean pressed black suit, and started to head out the door. "Oh, I'm a bloody idiot," he remarked to no one in particular. Poor Ian had almost forgot to kiss his wife goodbye. He opened the door to her bedroom, only to see a superbly made bed. With no wife in it. He frantically searched the house, only to find a neatly folded note on the bed. His wife really had a thing for cleanliness. Ian opened the note and read it out loud. "I'm leaving you. Bye." Guess his wife had a thing for terseness too. (Interestingly enough, "Cleanliness" and "Terseness" are not other men. It was Sean, if you were wondering.) John threw the note on the bed, grabbed his trenchcoat, and stormed out of the apartment. Work could wait. Now the new owner of a lonely heart, Ian walked down a long and dreary path down the cobbled road. After a few moments of depressing introspection, he found the entrance to the bar. Jack, the bartender, therapist, and friend at heart stared at him astoundingly. "I need a whisky," Ian mentioned with conviction. "Bloody hell, it's not even 10..." Jack stated with a thick Irish voice. "It's been a long day." "You've only had about 10 hours for it to go to hell." But, alas, a bartender never turns down a customer, so a few shot glasses of Johnny Walker later, Ian lips were quite loosened. A warm sense of happiness overcame him, filling the room. “So, what was it?” Jack asked inqusitively. “Oh, the wife left me, no big deal!” Jack shrugged his muscular shoulders. He would soon be introducing his newest partner into the business of therapy. Suddenly, a phone ringing in Ian's pocket shattered the silence. “Ian, where in God's name are you?!?!” The angry grate of the boss' voice snapped Ian back to reality, the heavy burden weighing down on him. After a quick goodbye to Jack, he headed towards the large marble building. Ian looked up at the looming building, his reality for many days before today. Known as the Orbis Recreational and General Institute for Exchanging Supplies, O.R.G.I.E.S for short, it was a 20-story building, inlaid with double-sided glass. It was a conglomerate of hundreds of nations, all milling about the building. Thousands of traders ran frantically around the building, all for a few dollars against the other nations. And this was where Ian found himself. Tactically avoiding his boss, Ian sat down at his cramped cubicle and turned on the computer. But no amount of cubicle camping could prevent his boss from seeing him. “Ian, pull that again and you're fired!” “Like it matters to you.” “Buy the damn food. After that, you're fired.” Ian's boss stormed out, leaving a tangible cloud of anger, malice, and some other dark crap that makes him a boss. Ian browsed through the events of the day, wondering why life had kicked him to the curbside. It was at that moment, a lightbulb popped above his head. Literally, not metaphorically. “Dammit Johnson, why don't you fix anything around here?!” Ian yelled. “Woulda never thought the lightbulb would shatter,” Johnson plainly remarked as he fixed the vending machine. Ian smashed his fists on his computer, and whether by luck, divine intervention, or his boss manually logging on to “remind” him to buy the darn food, a truly evil thought passed his mind. A mere three clicks later, and two numbers switched, Ian calmly packed his belongings and left the building. He'd only need wait until the market adjusted. As Ian lit a cigarette, a monitor shattered in front of him, thrown from the window of the Food Trading Floor.. He laughed to himself as he single-handedly caused a market boom. He knew it would only last a few minuted before the market stabilized, but at least for the moment, Ian would have his victory. Costing an entire country five days worth of gross profit, that would be hilarious. Well, it was time to get going before people started to get suspicious. Ian threw the cigar on the newly paved road, leaving a permanent smudge on the hallowed earth.

Always good to have another brother protecting us! May you have God's prosperity behind you.