You tear through the paper-work with a righteous fury. Yes! Finally your life has purpose, has meaning! Enough with the tyrannical rule of law! The body poly-tic has been leeching off the human blood stream for far too long. Never again shall they exert their Satanic control upon the third dimension! How dare they! With renewed vigour, you begin to track the form numbers you've accrued. You start clerically aligning all the forms alpha-numerically, seeking out the pattern. The great pattern that if discovered could shatter their portal into our pockets. The numbers line up, and space out before your eyes. Potentially... if you could just see past the fine-print.... squint... YES! You can see it! If you could find just the right mistakes to make on EACH form, just the right letter out of place, the incorrect number linking back to the next form, in just the right order, if all filed at once, could coalesce into a bureaucratic bar across their entry-way to Earth. You just need someone with a bit more experience with form filing, someone trained to really see THE BIG PICTURE. You know; a lawyer. You scan the phone book and come across an EXTREMELY impressive ad for a surprisingly muscular lawyer by the name of Sal Cumberbund. Wow, he looks buff. "Excellent!" You think, "he'll be able to handle any of the unexpected wrenches thrown into our action-packed crack-down on this inter-dimensional conspiracy!" You hastily toss your mountain of documents into your beloved child-hood wagon still filled with "Have you seen...." posters with your father's face on them. Plastering them across your community was a favoured child-hood activity of yours, to no avail of course, but at least it allowed you to feel somehow connected to your absentee daddy. With mounds of paper-work and adequate transportation secured, you race off towards the town center where Sal does his dirty business.
Unable to bring your wagon up the stairs to his office with you, a sharp sense of paranoia sets in. What if they find your stack of tyranny destroying ammunition? ANYONE could be in the employ of these mega-dimensional demons! One tossed match and all your immense minutes of work could go up in flames. LITERAL FLAMES! Earth Angels started you down this path to ultimate universal freedom, and they shall be your greatest allies as you sally forth, aside from Sal of course. You spot a cockroach infested dumpster into which you dump the entirety of your wagon documents. “They shalt protect my findings with the entirety of their incredible hive mind!” Or whatever; you think.
Kicking open the door, you fly up the stairs and barrel forward into the lobby.
"I need to see Sal!" you spurt towards the general direction of the secretary, "So many documents.... bringing down the government!"
"Look child, " she states politely, with a hint of concern and annoyance, "Sal's time is extremely costly. Are you able to pay $800 for an hour's consultation? If not, I'd highly recommend you go see him at the legal assistance clinic across town. He spends afternoons there every Wednesday. " You pause... can this be? Could you be able to take down the power structure for FREE! You just have 2 days to wait. All the tyrannical theft and bullying; over. With one simple visit to a legal clinic. Your face crinkles up in thought. She sees your hint of uncertainty and adds helpfully, "It's a wonderful program which can do wonders for at risk youth such as yourself. We truly are lucky they are still receiving support from both federal and provincial funding."
What... can you utilize tax dollars to destroy the tax boogey man? If the government is able to help you bring itself down, is it really that bad? Where do the evil aspects of power begin, and the loving hand of the daddy you never knew end? Your mind flips into a sixth dimensional bureaucratic loop, and bursts the integrity of your skull's structure. You brain now paints the walls of Sal the Solicitor's office.