Peter Newton is a professional Haikuist. What the hell is a professional Haikuist? Peter Newton went to Stanford Haiku School and got his doctorate in writing three lines. He graduated with a straight A average and a clean permanent record. Every morning he combs his fresh haircut and gives himself the cleanest shave using Gillette’s triple low trim razor technology. He then puts on silk boxers and freshly ironed socks. He slips on his tailored suit and grabs his black leather briefcase and a bagel and a cup of coffee as he speed walks into the four-car garage. He turns on the Chrysler 300C and gives her a couple of revs before he presses the button on the center console that is synced with the garage door opener.
Peter pulls out of his glossy black driveway and puts the spurs to her as he rips through the neighborhood on the way to work. He throws the bagel and the coffee that his wife made into the trash outside of Caribou Coffee where he gets a better bagel and a better cup of coffee. Peter Newton parks his favorite child in the spot closest to the Building, where he has a reserved spot closer than the handicapped spots. He reads his shiny watch as he pushes through the revolving door. His black shoes clap on the tile as he makes his way to the elevator. He goes to the top floor where the floor is his office. He walks to his cherry oak desk and drops the black leather briefcase carefully and places his Blackberry on top of that. He walks over to the wide window and looks down at the city. It practically belongs to him.
No it doesn’t. None of that is true.
Why is he the way he is? He is no better than I, the only difference is that I know where I belong. And it is nowhere near him.
- Jack Burton '11
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