There’s a deranged, delusional, completely preposterous dictator ruling our lives and he’s declared war. Conscription is mandatory: every man, every woman, every child is ordered into battle. Only the strongest of the strongest of the strongest can survive his silent, brutal and hopeless crusade. Manipulation, evil, and relentlessness are his stratagems. Cameras and lasers are everywhere. Soldiers fall by the ticking of his hidden clock.
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He is named Proscrastides, and he’s out to get every one of you.
Still, he can’t be accredited for his own rise to power. In fact, you helped him along the way. Step by step, delusion after delusion, you fell to his hypnotic promises.
“I won’t hurt you! You can trust me.”
“You can finish that later! I’m the one you should be with.”
“You have plenty of time! Come on – a little fun won’t hurt.”
And by the end of the day, when he’s finished with you, he’ll say “It’s not me, it’s you.”
After all the hours you helped him conquer your world, this is how he’ll treat you. Time after time, your loving friends, family, and teachers have warned you about his game, but you didn’t listen to their wisdom. Instead, you followed him mindlessly and paid the consequences. You climbed into his gaping mouth, paying no attention to his sharp chompers. He furnished you with magnificent daffodils and then left you for the neighbourhood skank.
Everyone is prey. Eventually, we’ll be herded into pens and upon us he’ll unleash his full counterproductive mindset. Revolt will be futile, as it will not exist. He’s a siren: we go willingly towards his sweet song of death.
He is Procrastides. Only the resolute stalwart can evade his iron fist.
