Deal with the devil

My face burned with the shame of betrayal - yes for I was betraying my fellow man. Supporting the very corporations and bourgeoisie that enslave both you and I! For that I am sorry... What now of my dreams of a new world? Where now is my revolutionary spirit? Had I traded my soul for... for this? I stared at it in my hands.

It was my precious - I held it carefully, oh yes very carefully and with both hands. I repositioned my fingers to take full advantage of it's radiant warmth. With closed eyes I inhaled deeply of it's rich aroma - a glorious wave of bliss came over me that, albeit momentarily, appeased my guilty conscience. It was my medium double double, my precious Tim Hortons.

(Confessions of a Conflicted Marxist Office Worker)