Chapter I: FUBAR

"They're all a bunch of Nazi conformist cheerleaders." Harris chuckled at the perfect adjective the South Park quote provided for the plain reality:

The rat race had gone too far.

Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do to change what was going on. He couldn't refrain from pondering what kept him mentally sound. After all... letting himself get carried away by emotions was the easy thing to do.

"Why do people want to fill their CV with useless stuff?" "What is the purpose of life?" His existential crisis remained unknown. An answer striked Harris at that point, in the form of another South Park quote:

Enter Stan ("Raven"), Goth kids 1-3, Goth girl. They encounter Butters crying.

Goth kid 1: Look at that. Another tortured soul.
Goth kid 2: Another life of pain.
Goth kid 1: Hey 'Raven', check it out.
Stan ('Raven'): Butters?
Butters: *stops crying* Oh... *sniff* *sniff* Hey Stan.
Stan: What's the matter with you?
Butters: Well, my girl friend broke up with me.
Goth girl: Did she step on your heart, with stiletto shoes?
Butters: Yeah. Sure does hurt.
Goth kid 1: That's cool. I guess you can join up with us if you want.
Goth kid 2: Yeah. We're gonna go to the grave yard and write poems about death and how pointless life is.
Butters: Oh, no thanks. I love life.
Stan: Huh? But you just got dumped.
Butters: Well, yeah, and I'm sad. But at the same time I'm really happy that something could make me feel that sad. It's like... it makes me feel alive, you know... it makes me feel human. And the only way I could feel this sad now, is if I felt something really good before. So I have to take the bad with the good. So I guess what I'm feeling, is like a beautiful sadness. I guess that sounds stupid.
Goth kid 2: Yeah.
Stan: No. No, Butters, that doesn't sound stupid at all.
Butters: Well thanks for offering to let me in your club guys. But to be honest, I'd rather be a crying little pussy than a faggy goth kid... Well, see ya Stan.
Stan: He's right! I don't even know who I am anymore. I like liking life a lot more than hating it. Screw you guys, I'm going home.

He ended up with a rather big smile instead of that unbeknown feeling of a quenched thirst of universal truth. "Ok, first off: I haven't been dumped. Second: I'm not in love... Well... there is THAT girl... but... Ok, third: damn that was a funny episode. Finally:... "

The bell rang. "Darnit." He was thinking to himself again. "Perhaps it's my funny-side of the brain." Harris had to admit that as a somewhat overweight man... he fit the fat man cliche: he was a bit too jolly. Too-many-a-time had he felt distracted by all sorts of humor.

The class had ended. Everyone was packing their notebooks, getting ready to leave. Chemical Engineering was Harris' major. As a freshman, or even as a sophomore he always felt proud and happy about Chemical Engineering. He didn't feel that way now.

No. It was a much different feeling. He felt "FUBAR". Sometimes frustrated, sometimes betrayed. His feelings couldn't exactly be coined. It was as if everyone had more time than he had and thus could accomplish more. If he kept underperforming, he could lose a percentage of his scholarship.

Harris had been loosing what he liked to call "the will to go on". And there was nothing he could do to regain it, for his heart and mind were in other places. Merrier places.