The Hook

It’s sort of like a leash, but it’s for humans.

You may think it’s for fish. Let me remind you, it’s for a human.

I’m talking about that fishing hook. Of course, now it’s called the human hook.

Fishes don’t exist anymore. And if they did, I’m afraid we would still be the ones getting hooked.

Humans can be very cruel, especially to those who have nothing.

But who is to blame here? The misfortunate or the rich?

The wealthy purchase a peasant only with the peasant’s approval–or so it seems.

Of course, only those of the poorest means resort to this kind of life.

I myself am hooked for life. My occupation is as the entertainer.

An incision was made at the top of my skull, rendering a small hole. That’s where they put the hook.

Then, they attach the leash. It’s sort of like a dog collar, except it goes on my skull. My hair covers it, so it just looks like a string coming out of my head.

Once in a while, I leak with that dreaded red substance but they take care of it real fast.

Well, the rich hold us with the leash and walk us around, sort of like dogs. And they pet us and feed us. They’re really nice folk. I just don’t like being in a leash.

Dogs and fish don’t exist anymore, maybe that’s why they do this to us.

Anyways, the rich would never be subjected to this cruelty. They’ve got money. They could evade this kind of treatment.

So it is the poor ones that resort to getting hooked.

I mean, it’s not that bad.

I guess the worst part of it all is when they drill a hole in your skull. Let me tell you, I was well awake and felt everything as it happened.

But after that, it’s all good–sort of.

I think someday, I might have enough to buy my freedom.

And if I’m feeling radical, I’ll throw out the system once in for all so the rich are the ones being hooked. I suppose that’s not right though.

Why does somebody need to be hooked?