Pyromaniac

I don't know why anyone does anything these days. What do they hope to accomplish? The generations that came before us did it all already and from their cryogenic paradises they laugh at us. I don't give a fuck though, what difference does it make to me if my life's a waste. I'm content with my squalor; smoking illegal cigarettes I stole from a Puerto Rican whore, drinking the warm piss that passes for beer in the slums and lighting the fires that even the old blind fuckers in the New District can see burning from dusk till dawn.
The semantics of how things got this disparate is beyond me, despite the 'Certificate of Advanced Education in History and Historical Arts' I received from the state-approved Facility for Able-Minded Youths. Trust me, I bare no pride in saying that I completed a program at one of the many state-approved 'Education' centers which have appeared throughout the nation. They spared no expense making sure those things were fucking ubiquitous within a decade of the first one's well-documented unveiling ceremony. You'd be hard pressed to find a photo of it's high-ceilinged dome protruding from the ground doesn't look like a fucking pimple about to start spewing.
I'll spare you the details of the transition from the FAMY to my current state of deranged bliss, after all, all you want to hear about are the fires. I've been lighting them for six years now- yes, I know it's fucking illegal but that's the goddamn point. It started with little things, election posters and 'Support Our Troops' ribbons but as you know, it's since escalated. The smug fuckers in the New District can tell you exactly how much. I've made sure that every building that goes down is clearly visible from that cocksucker Dwight Norman's estate and that the ashes from the fire always falls in his direction.
My girlfriend helps me out, storing the materials and distracting the media at the New District's. The long, pink burns that cover her body are the perfect misdirection. Every week she's on the television decrying the despicable acts of the North Monheim firebug, publicly calling for the arrest of the scum who is thoughtlessly murdering countless civilians in his foolish attacks on the local governors. Nobody suspects her chain-smoking, amputee boyfriend. Nobody ever suspects the fucking amputee...