Paradigm

He looked through it for the proper change but found that he only had larger bills.

"Can you make change for a twenty?"

"Um... sure."

The waiter was a little surprised at this. Judging from George's appearance, he would have thought him to be broke and homeless. The waiter decided to himself that he must have stolen the wallet. This was a satisfactory solution to this puzzling problem. He went off to get George's change and deliver his beverage.

George layed his head back down on the table.

"Christ, my fuckin' head."

He lifted himself up and began to massage his temples. A few seconds later, the waiter came out with the coffee and set it down on the table, along with George's change. George mumbled his thanks and decided to leave the change on the table as a tip. "The currency is worthless anyway," he thought to himself. He sipped on his beverage slowly as not to burn his mouth.

"I'm going to need a few more of these..."

George appeared at his father's office that day with the clothing he had been wearing when he woke up behind the alleyway.

"You look like hell, George. You okay?" one of the secretary's he had been on first-name basis with inquired.

"I'm better than okay! I'm high on life and high on caffeine!"

He bursted into a board meeting where his father, his brothers, his uncles, and various business partners were arguing over who would get what shares of the company after the death of his grandfather.

"George!" his father scolded him.

"I just wanted to let you all know that I am no longer a member of this corporation or this family. It’s been quite a thrill but all good things must come to an end. Ignorance may be bliss, but the truth has set me free!"

George then proceeded to piss in a gold-plated trashcan and light it on fire. As the shocked expressions looked to George’s throbbing, pissing erection, George got another idea. He had happened to spy a play of assorted snacks and sandwiches that the upper class generally enjoys to dine on setting on the table and grabbed the plate from them. He took the plate out of the room, down the elevator, through the lobby and outside to a few homeless people that he sometimes encountered outside the office building. They were quite thankful for this and said he was a good man "unlike those other assholes upstairs."

After this, George went to the park to do some thinking. He had laid the groundwork for his emancipation but hadn’t quite decided the next steps that should be taken. He remembered a book that was required reading in his youth where a man had decided to separate from society and live on his own in the woods. He decided that this would probably be the best course of action.

First though, he had to go home, collect some of his money to buy some of the necessary supplies (and some pornography as well. The rest of the money he would give away, he had no use for it.) he would need for this venture.

After this, he went to the country club he was a member of to formally resign, call them all gender-specific racist fascists, and then shit on the salad bar in the café.

He parked his BMW in his usual parking space and began walking to the entrance of the club. He thought of the future life he was going to live. It would be hard, he had no doubts. But he would finally be truly free.