Greece, it seems, is one big Case of the Extinguisher.
There was once a country in a world on an earth teeming with people.
The country was the prime example of the values which upheld this small world: virtue, justice, strength and deliverance.
It was only a matter of time, however, before cracks began to appear in this golden world and its crystalline buildings. In one of these crystalline buildings there was a large room. And in one of the corners of that large room there was a fire extinguisher. It was red and proud, its body shiny and its muzzle a sleek black: the epitome of a tool used to save and to nullify threats.
On the day that strife spilled over in the country and made the streets run scarlet with malice, a fire broke out. It devoured a little unimportant office in no time at all. But the people did nothing. They stood in a crowd opposite the blaze, its orange fury reflected in their indifferent gazes.
A young woman from the neighboring building ran into that large room and grasped the fire extinguisher, ripping it free from its fastenings. She ran to fight the flame with white foam and managed to tame only a tongue of fire before something dark and angular rocketed out from the still crowd and dealt a glancing blow to her head, killing her in an instant.
The next day, her grieving family woke to silence and exile. An ivory envelope sat on the doorstep; and the young woman’s mother cried out when she saw what was inside.
They had been sent a bill for the extinguisher.