The town hung criminals from a tree outside the courthouse.
People came from miles to watch.
Over time, it became an event.
Hawkers shouted LEMONADE and PRETZELS as they pushed their carts through the jubilant crowd.
The town decided this was in bad taste and ended the public hangings.
Instead, they made the hangings private.
The new county arboretum is a beautiful building, built around the old hanging tree.
Hangings are now private events. Invitation-only.
No people coming from miles to watch.
No pushcarts. No lemonade or pretzels.
Just the witnesses, the criminal, the hangman, and a bottle of champagne.
Tag: dystopia
Gestures
When a dog bows with its tail in the air and ears cocked forward, it is an invitation to play.
Get down on the ground and try it yourself. See what your dog does.
We had to teach this to the Bzzzzkt, who had mistaken this canine behavior for a Tktktktkt Death Beetle threat-crouch and had wiped out a large number of pets, living and cybernetic, in the colony domes.
It’s only fair to forgive them, as we mistook their friendship gesture as a form of anal rape.
Besides, the constant barking was getting annoying, and dog meat’s rather tasty.
Barriers
Three Halloweens ago, the Spirit and Living worlds reunited once again, but never fully separated when the Holiday was over.
Zombies, ghouls, mummies, and other frightful creatures were still crossing over.
The world was awash in these troublesome and smelly interlopers.
So, scientists came up with an answer, and they managed to close the barrier once again.
Completely.
With Death vanquished once and for all, you’d think people would be happy.
Instead, we’re getting older, sicker, and unable to eat anything.
Maybe when Halloween comes again, the barriers will weaken, and we can finally taste the sweet mercy of death.
The Road
The soldiers gather up the women and children from the village, tie them together, and drive them out into the road.
Every so often, you hear an explosion and screaming.
Then crying… and shouting from the soldiers, gunfire in the air to get them walking the road again.
The commander’s translator shouts: “If there are any mines left in the road when we move the convoy through here, we will burn the village down and kill everyone.”
Thirty minutes goes by without an explosion, and the commander gives the all-clear signal.
More gunfire, the villagers are slaughtered.
Dirt. Stones. Blood.
Easier Said Than Done
Amir was well known for speaking his mind, and his friends placed bets on when he’d lose his tongue.
It was soon after getting caught stealing. The things he shouted as his hands were cut off were so profane, the priests insisted his tongue be removed at once.
Unable to speak or write, Amir found himself on Beggar’s Row, holding out a bowl with his wrist-stumps at passers-by.
A passing soldier tossed a few coins at Amir, missing the bowl.
“Some things are more easily said than done,” he grinned, watching Amir try to pick the coins from the dirt.
The Real Torture
We told the Red Cross that the prisoner had died and the corpse was quarantined due to a virulent disease needing containment and decontamination.
We told the prisoner that the world thought he was dead, and we could do anything we wanted to do to him.
And we did.
It’s been nine years, but he’s still alive, still providing information.
Sure, it’s utter crap and totally worthless, but it’s highly imaginative and very interesting.
We hand the transcripts to the television producers, they punch it up, and get it filmed in a week.
And that’s how the Kardashians became famous.
The Revolution
People are talking about a revolution with this Occupy Wall Street thing, but I’m not so sure about it.
I’m busy watching television, surfing porn, and eating Big Macs. The most I’ll do is Retweet or Like or Plus One the revolution.
The first man up against the wall when the revolution comes will be Banksy, because he’ll be tagging it with something insightful and cool and clever as the crowd starts lining up the crooked bankers and dirty lawyers and inside traders and economic traitors.
The problem with being famously anonymous is that you can’t prove who you are.
The Skye’s The Limit
He was a music prodigy. Played from the time he was three.
Guitar. Piano.
He could sing, too.
He loved to go out and perform, and folks said “You’re going places.”
It was a shame when he got sick and couldn’t gig anymore.
So, he played his music on the Internet.
Folks around the world got to enjoy him, and they posted YouTubes of his music, bringing in more fans.
When he got better and record labels came calling, he said “Thank you. I’ll never forget you.”
Neither did the lawyers, as the copyright takedown notices spread around the net.
Christmas Wish
It takes a lot of energy to make a wish come true.
The amount of energy depends on the wish.
Little wishes, a little bit of energy.
Big wishes, lots of energy.
Where does the energy come from?
From the mass of the star, of course, based on Einstein’s formula.
You know our sun is a star, right?
Scientists thought we could slow Global Warming by wishing the sun slightly smaller.
But something went wrong. We wished too much of it away.
So, go ahead and sing “We Wish You A Merry Christmas.”
But not like you really mean it.
Elephants
Kelly searched the classifieds for a bathtub big enough to drown an elephant in.
“Money’s no object,” she told herself, wringing her hands. “This is justice.”
It took a flatbed and a crane to deliver it.
However, she never thought about how she’d get it into the house, so the tub ended up in the back yard.
“It’s an above-ground pool,” she told the neighbors, and she hired men to build a deck around it.
“And a ramp,” she said. “A very sturdy ramp.”
She’s sitting on her porch, with a bag of peanuts, waiting… waiting…
Do you hear elephants?