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The man was tall, a little rounded at the middle, and he looked out of place. Ahead of him, looming out of the blackness of the cavern was a great stand, as if once hundreds could have been seated in it. Their historic detritus cluttered the dusty array. It was blasted, ancient, and deathly still. But the man was brightly clad, a neat suit and a microphone in his hand, as if he had arrived a the studio eons ago, when it had still been operating. His steps left footprints in the accumulated dust as he prepared his entry...

"Welcome to Aidan's BRAIN EMPTYING TIME!" he yelled into the darkness enthusiastically, humming a tune which might once have been incredibly catchy. "Here's your host: Adonis!" Following his own introduction he flung himself onto the stage, feet skidding through the dust and kicking it up.

"Hi and welcome to the show! I dunno what kind of apocalypse hit this place but I'm heeeere tooooo staaaay!" The dusty stalls answered him with silence.
"Okay! On to today's topic! Today on ABET we will be talking about..."

Meh, I'm too tired to keep this up. Summer is all long and full of nothing to do and stuff. If the world were perhaps a little more keen on letting me get a job, or even just acknowledgement that I sent out the cover letter and Curriculum Vitae, then maybe I would have something to do and it would inspire me with energy.

And now for the second half of the title. Addiction.

I am an MMO addict. I know that. I 'quit' Final Fantasy XI a total of seven times in the seven years I played it. But this time it really is final. I have deleted all but the main character and cancelled the subscription, knowing full well that it would have cancelled itself when it realised there was no more money to take. Who needs drugs when you have online gaming.

So now I'm back to good old free Gaia, entertaining myself with roleplay once again. I definitely missed this.

I have posts to make, so "it's time to wrap up this imaginary, prizeless gameshow with the usual! See you all next time!"

He turned, humming the tune again as he retreated from the sand-blasted room, unaware of the glint of a pair of eyes in the darkness, the shine of reflective metal, the click of a chamber as it was filled with a brass cylinder packed with death.

The sniper destroyed the rotund man's cerebrum just before the tune drove him insane, and he began his new life as a rave, feasting on his first kill's flesh.