John sat alone on the canvas seat of the daughter's swing. The cool metal of the chains felt refreshing in contrast to the Summer weather. He effortlessly swung back and forth, moving his feet to and fro. Then, just as he had done every day for the last month, John started to pump his legs back and forth with all of his energy. He wanted the swing set to lift off the ground. Just an inch. But, as swing sets normally do, it held firmly in place. John relaxed his legs and waited until the swing came to a full stop. He got up, drained, and entered the house. He saw the wife and daughter and said, "Good morning." The wife hardly nodded.
"John, take the trash to the dump."
"Honey, I don't like John. The name is bland and overused. Why won't you call me Jonathan?" The daughter looked up from her cereal with half-concealed eyes, saying, "John, just go to the dump." John turned, knowing that the conversation was over, and looked for his car keys.
"Where are my keys?"
After twenty minutes of searching, he finally found them. He got the trash and walked to the car, but he almost felt that he was the trash and the trash dictated where he was going. He started the car and drove towards the dump. A cop car was passing him, and John got a sudden impulse. He floored the gas pedal and went far ahead of the cop. The cop didn't care. Suddenly, the car started smoking and came to a full stop on its own. the cop car whizzed by, paying no mind. "AAAAAAAAAAAA!" he screamed. No one was listening.