TV

The boy sat watching, his eyes as wide as a meth head's.
He was getting a worse fix than any chemical narcotic. His brain was slowly being destroyed by flickering images of meaningless bullshit.
In a moment of clarity he pictured how his life would play out. He saw himself in 50 years' time, sitting watching, but he was much fatter. He was wearing a vest that was stained with the spillages of a thousand takeaway deliveries. All his life would be about would be TV, TV and more TV.
He needed to stop it.
He pulled the plug from the wall, lifted the television above his head and threw it through the window.
He climbed through then shattered window and ran across his garden and over the field behind it towards freedom.