Chongo sat down to contemplate life. Death, where is thy sting. He munched on snacks that tasted of hampster. Fast banana or not, Chongo was in a mood. A dark mood that matched the sky, the horizon of his life, the feeling one gets from a nuclear reaction at the cellular level. Micro-macrocosm: what's the dif. Life sucked on that grey, dismal afternoon in the Windy City. Where to from here, he wondered? And what was to come?