Snippet #2643054

Hasson Byrd sighed as he walked down the street, Nightcore blaring through his headphones loud enough for everyone to dance to the beat. As he passed by each house, the owners looked up, waved, and smiled. He smiled and waved back, as was expected of him. Every white, immaculate, uniform house. Every green, half inch tall grass lawn. Every block and street. Each and every house looked the same, was designed the same, even smelled the same. Every family had two children that went to school and made straight A's. Every man and woman had a job that paid their uniform, unchanging bills. Every household looked, worked, and was exactly the same as every other household in the complex.
This, was the Screaming Man Complex, a perfect, uniform, crime free community where nothing ever went wrong. And it was absolutely boring.
Nothing ever went wrong here. No one was ever killed, no one ever got drunk, no one was ever beaten or robbed or hit by a car. nothing interesting ever happened in this little community because no one ever did anything other than go to work or school, and go home. Everyone followed along like the robots they were, smiling and waving like trained monkeys. He hated it here.