Listening to the screams and chaos, Brett's ears told him something was missing. Looking around, he saw a sports car parked beside the sidewalk, undisturbed by the pandemonium.
Brett loved the violence around him and couldn't stand to see any piece of serenity exist within the raging storm of people. He yelled for help, but his voice was lost among the cries of the agitated masses.
Seeing what he had to do, he picked up an overturned garbage can and slammed it against the car's windshield. Again and again. And again.
His knuckles bled, but he'd found the missing sound.
Sometimes I want to destroy something beautiful.
More often than not, I just want to quote Fight Club. This piece is a combination of me trying to get in the right frame of mind for a short story I'm working on and a delayed response to the post-Stanley Cup Finals riots. Take from it what you will.