Is it because I printed off fake hundred dollar bills with my face on them? Is it because I regularly steal vegetables from grocery stores with self-checkout lanes? Is it because of that time in the first grade when I found a dollar during recess and used it to buy a zebra cake even though I knew another kid had lost a dollar, and that was probably most of his lunch money? What was it. What did I do to deserve this torment, this relentless assault upon my humanity, this unjust world driven by unjust people? What did I do to deserve to have that which I love taken from me? Why, Safeway, why did you stop selling the cheap sandwiches that have been sustaining me through months of poverty?
I understand that the helm of my country is currently manned by three pomeranians standing paws-on-shoulder and draped in a poorly tailored suit, but this abuse of the worker has gone far enough. I do not yet earn enough to afford such luxuries as buying groceries in bulk and preparing food in advance or subsisting off the products of vending machines or even buying a lunch costing more than 2 dollars. They were called “Poorboy Sandwiches,” and Queen was wrong about them because I loved the poor boy dearly. But now they are gone, and I am left with a hole in my heart that only revolution can fill.
You can take my rights, my property, my clean water, and my privacy, but the moment you take my affordable sandwiches you’ve gone too damn far. I may not be the most intimidating person in the world. I am not the traditional figurehead of a revolutionary movement. I’ve never rallied a crowd with only my words. But I have a cause worth fighting for, and that has been enough to move people to action before. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m George Washington leading the American rebels, but our reasons for fighting are parallel in a few undeniable ways. Like George, I fight against an unjust exploitation of the working class. Also like our first president, my dental hygiene could be better. I’d keep listing the alarming similarities, but every good leader knows they must keep some information to themselves.
I’d throw a bunch of Safeway groceries in a harbor, but I live in Arizona so my access to harbors is limited. Also, Arizona sandwich party sounds like an event a church would throw to raise money for a new organ, and I don’t want people to connect my revolution to anything sounding so innocuous. So instead of engaging in open warfare with my enemy, I will take my fight to the shadows. I will battle Safeway with subtlety and artifice which looks less like burning the land of my enemy and more like glaring at the employee who said “yes, I don’t think we’re doing those anymore” when I asked him where the cheap sandwiches are. Such is my burden.