[i] He never thought in a million years that his little dream would be the nesting ground of absolute abomination. Actually he did, but not in this sense. By naming it the "Black Hole", he was hoping to cash in on the very profitable and easily manipulated investment "the new generation"; the wannabe hipsters and so-called "revolutionary thinkers" who believe gruesome and depressing is synonymous with art. He was successful, of course. Manipulated those poor lost souls were, but he forgot to account for how fickle and trendy they were. They would invest hundreds of dollars a week into whatever garbage he gave them to "appease their individuality and cater to their appreciation for the underrated" and then disappear. They would go off to find something new to waste money in, but these guys were different. They came every day faithfully, at the same times faithfully, and sat in the same places faithfully. They were not only different in that way, but in who they are. At first he thought they were your typical nutcases. Now he is sure that they were placed here, in this café on purpose, as different elements of a compound more powerful than any atomic compound the human race could ever create. Should anything change in their routine that leads to them bonding together, we could be talking about World War III-no, the [b] immediate[/b] extinction of all life on earth as we know it. [/i]

Oh dear...