“Alright, fine, maybe this is all legal,” M’ressa angrily slumped into the couch, “but you gotta admit that this is still fifty billion different flavors of fucked up!”
“That ain’t all, either,” Pablo continued, “Sometimes people lose these things on purpose just because the idea of being a brainwashed indentured servant is better than whatever else they had going on before. They even have some kind of mantra that goes something like “reject depression, embrace service” or whatever.”
“I guess that’s their business if they want to be a goddamn automaton for the rest of however,” M’ressa sighed, “Still fucked up, but I guess I don’t have a platform to argue. Tell ya what true injustice is? Just because I retain my own free will, I get constantly harassed by those brain dead slaves because I’m not ‘one of them’ or some other bull crap like that. I don’t even need to admit that I’m not brainwashed! It’s like those fuckers can smell it! I’ve been pelted with tomatoes, had people block my path, and I think the landlord is gouging me on the rent just because she’s brainwashed and I’m not!”
“Oh yeah, Mrs. Ablebody is a brainwashed cat girl maid, huh?” Pablo remembered, “Isn’t she also half vacuum cleaner and half accounting machine?”
“THAT’S BESIDES THE POINT!” M’ressa shouted, “Do you know the real reason I keep getting laid off, and the real reason it’s so hard for me to find a job these days? It’s because I’m not a brainwashed slave maid! Are you seeing why they piss me off so much?!”
“I know,” Pablo sighed, “I see why. Believe you me, I understand why.”
“So, maybe we assassinate the producers,” the cat girl supposed, “The show can’t go on without that free will creativity, so we hit them where it hurts!”