Jeremy

Jeremy left his house for another day of wandering. He was one of those people everyone knew, not just because all he did was meander round the town centre all day, every day but mostly because of his unique look. You see he wears a pair of bright red headphones, but not like a normal person wears headphones, these were the kind that a dad in the seventies might use at home after the kids had gone to bed to listen to prog rock loud but contained. Big and bold like two baboon asses sticking out either side of his head, cutting into his frizzy mane like Moses parting a red sea of split ends and grease. Every day he was there somewhere in the city and never seen without his trusty red cans. And so as he shuffled through the swathes of zombie shoppers and scurrying office drones the calm soothing voice in his ears kept saying over and over ‘don’t kill anyone Jeremy, don’t kill anyone’.

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