You were served a dire letter from Canada's Anthrostate. 'There is no excuse for not being supervised you idiot sandwich', it said, 'and you must report to the provided address within half a working day'. Her's was an utterly pitiful neighborhood, the kind where it'd be wise to look over your shoulder incase two scumbags on a moped try to mug you. Women with animal faces were peering from their windows with lecherous gazes, giving catcalls and taking photos of you without your permission. You were fresh meat, the 'latest and greatest' to gossip about. The ordain claimed that it was an Auntie Lilly who lived at home #8-393. There laid a pile of rotting CRT television sets on her part of the sidewalk, spilling brittle plastic onto the streets. Meanwhile, inside her home, Auntie Lilly hissed and scowled at her foul RCA set. "Ah! What in the shit is that Chrissstie lady babbling about now?!?" Shopping bags and old clothes are shoved aside as she slithers closer to the set. "Hahah! Gas station was raided? That business not doing well anyway, fuck em'! Only the best businesses will succccceed, that's how the world goes!" She speaks to her hated neighbor as if 'Christie' could hear through the TV. "You always sound stupid, quit putting your face on TV! Always blithering on about supporting small businesses as if the small boss not going to cut you like a leek, too! They just want us to keep working and earning worthless loonies, eh?! Grow up!" It was up to this point that your eyes had been glued to the window if only to understand the sick beast the Anthrostate matched you with. That same beast hoisted up her 13 inch CRT, a machine of 30 kilograms, as if it were a hunk of trash. Because it was now, and she was sure going to huck that fucking thing out the window. The window shatters into a glimmering fog, and a sharp 'POP' blows through the entire block. The TV's glass face had imploded from the force, its corpse now too heaped up on the sidewalk with the rest. She swings the door open, surprised at first but recognizing you as her latest government issued companion. The doorway yawns a stench of half-burned chili oil, stale beer, and cigarette smoke. "Ah! Just in time! Get to the bedroom in the back, I need good stresssss relief right about now! Then you will help me get another TV from Facebook!"