Fiction by Colonel Nogov on Mar. 31, 2015
The following is a work of fiction, any resemblances to any person, organization, or place is purely coincidental.
The sun shone on the gathered protesters. They should have been working, or spending the day with their families, or enjoying some outdoor activities, instead they decided this was more important. The government had been especially burdensome lately and the people came out to let them know it. The people carried signs. Some read, “Taxed enough already” referring to the imagined revision of the Boston tea party. Obviously, these people meant business.
Inside the capitol building Senator Mike walked into Senator John’s office to talk. “The peasants are on the lawn” Mike said, “should we do something?”
“We are doing something” replied John, “care for some scotch?” John walked over to the serving table. He grabbed two glasses and filled them with ice from the ice bucket sitting there, poured two fingers worth of scotch in each glass, walked back to his desk and sat down, then reached over and handed Mike a glass of scotch who was now sitting opposite him at his desk.
“I meant who’s turn is it?” Mike said. “I did it last time and I’ve got my ‘masseuse’ coming at 1 o’clock.”
“It’s my turn”, John said with obvious annoyance, “I’ve got Jack working on a statement right now. It shouldn’t be much longer.”
At 1 o’clock, Senator John steps up to the podium that has been set up and addresses the crowd. “My fellow americans. My fellow conservatives… blah blah blah bullshit bullshit bullshit….. freedom”. Rrrrrraaaaaaa, the crowd goes wild. They’re hootin’ and hollerin’. They know freedom is good, they just don’t know what the fuck it is. They think back to the propaganda they learned in their high school U.S. history class. Something about “no taxation without representation” and think(if you can call it that), “we are represented! This man is our representative and he believes in freedom. Taxes are okay.”
Senator Mike was standing in his office looking out the window as Senator John was addressing the crowd. His ‘masseuse’ was on her knees in front of him sucking his cock. Mike thinks to himself, “It’s good to be the king!” remembering the line from the Mel Brooks movie.
The protesters go home with the knowledge that they did something today.
Senator John walks into Mike’s office after his speech is over. “The peasants are such simpletons.” John says with a smirk. “It’s time I gave your ‘masseuse’ a good working over…on the taxpayers dime of course.”
Mike and John share a good laugh.