The Time for Being Calm is Over

People are fucking dying. I know which side I’m on.


Tyre King was a bright little boy of 13. It’s a weird age where the playtime of childhood slowly gives way to the tumultuous season of teenagerdom. Perhaps his parents worried a bit, as most do, if he’d remain that smiling spark of sunshine they’d seen grow day in and day out. Tyre was no troublemaker though, had no history of violence, and was in the  “Young Scholars Programme” at school.

Any pair of parents would be hard pressed NOT to expect the best of such a child. Maybe during his football games they stood in the bleachers, cheering him on, enraptured with the idea that they’d raised a strong, intelligent boy that would make something of his self, that in their old age they’d be at some banquet, some award ceremony for the kid that exuded promise from the moment he was born.

Tyre King today lies rotting in…

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