Canvass of Bubble Gum

Timothy looked in the mirror. His shirt was oversized but it still made him look smart, he had managed to make his scruffy hair tidy with an excess of hair product and even though his tired eyes watered he was ready to start his new job.  It was significant.  Not because it was work, but because he had given something up by putting on that shirt and allowing himself to count numbers for a living.  He thought about his past as he straightened himself out.  

The tram came by and all Timothy could think about was how everyone crammed into the carts, popping out like clowns from a small car.  He didn’t mind that part of the day.
As he watched the landscape shoot by he noticed how the speed made the colours of the trees smudge and stick together.  It was like bubble gum that was being pulled apart by hand to hang like a large painting that hung from station to station.  He looked around and disappointingly no one else could see the bubble gum canvass.
Timothy walked into his new job, his new life as a banker.  For a job he never wanted, he had jumped through hoops to get it, his profession didn’t pay well, so eventually he succumbed to the pressures of adult life.
“Timothy?” A woman with a broad smile, yellow hair and a small frame said.  Timothy stood silent and tried his best to be positive as she showed him around.  His head craned as he tried to find some colour in the brightly lit white walled building.  He looked at it like they were trying to create Heaven, but created a hollow room of light instead. The yellow haired woman showed him to his desk.
Timothy stripped the paint away from walls where sat while looking at the window to catch his reflection.  The man that sat before him was a stranger.   Someone who he wouldn’t speak to, someone who’s skin he didn’t feel comfortable in, someone he didn’t want to present himself as. 
He wanted to pull of the mans skin, rip it apart to he could see his insides.  He wanted the muscles to pulse on his face as his eye sockets laid bare, so he could scope them out, the reflection burned through him.  His colleagues watched as he peeled the walls apart.
The yellow haired woman approached and he behaved in a moment of subdued defiance, and as suddenly as she left he could feel the windows steam from condensation in the office, it was the money filling up the glass, smoking him out.  Suffocating him in his glass chamber with all the other worker bees.
He screamed and knocked his desk over.
“Desperate pigs.  All of you. That’s all you are desperate pigs! Oink! Oink! Oink!”
He opened his bag and pulled out his uniform from his old job, a coloured wig, white make up, a painted red nose and a flamboyant overalls.  “Guess we’re all  pigs.  Oink!!!”  Timothy bounced over the desks, urinating over the papers, letting the piss soak up the mathematic equations, to let the condensation taste something other than the gangrenous money.
The yellowed haired woman came through the room, no longer smiling, as Timothy ripped the top half off his overalls and rubbed his body over her.  “Oink!!”
The security guards came.  Pushing Timothy away from the yellow haired woman.  As the security guards chased towards him he fell gleefully out of the tenth story window.  Flying down he created another bubble gum canvass before hitting the concrete.  But this time people could see the vapour trails, the pool of colour he would leave to try and add some life to the hollowed out heaven they had created for themselves.