The brake room is a minefield,
filled with factless options,
readily being shouted across the room.

"Man I can stand thous ****."
Clams one boy,
to young to already have his judgement clouded by the hatred in this world.

"It's like all of a sudden this world is loosing it's morals..."
mumbles another,
quietly,
ever so quietly I sit,
surrounded by people who,
though they don't know it,
hate me.

"Those Democrats think they can strip this of all it stands for."

Finally the loudest of them,
turns to me,
and dares to ask,
"What's your option in all this little lady?"

I look at the faces of these men,
all but one are far past there prime,
and I,
the small new girl,
feel like a gazelle surrounded by lions.

They already know my option,
they've assumed,
"You have to be liberal with blue hair like that, no to mention the ****** piercings..."

"Well, I'll put it this way,"
I say when I finally find it in me to speak,
"If I can't cry at my best friends wedding because some,
close minded,
self centered,
*******,
are to discussed by the fact that she is not marrying someone who fits there standers,
but instead is marrying for love,
we're gonna have a problem."

They sit there for a minute,
ether pondering my words,
or out of sheer shock that I spoke at all,
and I use that moment to take my leave.

When one shouts after me,
"Eh, your young, your option doesn't even really matter yet."

To which I have no choose but to point out that,
"My option is one of the future, that is where where heading, and it doesn't matter if you like it cuz you have you head to far up your *** to see it anyways."

And with this,
I finally am freed from this accursed room,
from now on I'll take me lunches in my office.