Tag: dystopia

Moment

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“Let me know when you have a moment,” said the boss.
His idea of a moment is not my idea of a moment.
A moment to me is a flash of recognition in the street, or sipping coffee that’s just a little too hot.
His idea of a moment is forty minutes at the end of the day, delaying my commute home until traffic’s at its worst.
It could be worse. I hear that the secret police of many nations tap people on the shoulder and say “Do you have a moment?” all the time.
Those people tend to vanish.

Crown Of Newspapers

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We put the crown of newspapers on the bum and call him our king.
He is no less confused now than before his coronation.
Commands flow from his ragged mouth like filth from a smokestack, catching the wind and joining the clouds.
The Regicide leaps up and smashes the king with a hammer.
The bloodsoaked crown falls into a puddle and goes limp.
Three days later, it is a grey waterlogged mass.
But that’s okay, we can make another. And find ourselves another king.
We will destroy him, too. Over and over.
Until kings, rulers of men, are no more.

Anonymous

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I prefer to think of myself as famously anonymous.
The bigger I get, the less people recognize me on the street.
I barely recognize myself in the mirror. When I go to brush my teeth or comb my hair, for just a moment, I wonder how a stranger got past my bodyguard.
I don’t even look like my ID anymore. Not even my shadow recognizes me. It still follows, but not quite as confidently as before.
Maybe my fingerprints have changed, too? My DNA?
If I’m going to commit this crime, I’d better do it before I change my mind.

Repeater

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Billy The Repeater is in the neighborhood, repeating everything that everyone says.
It used to be cute how he did it, but it’s gotten really annoying.
I can tell Billy is exhausted, too. The strain on his face as he mimics everything I say shows his exhaustion.
We tried to cut his tongue out, but now he mumbles and slurs everything.
That’s not so great, especially when I really need Billy to repeat something I can’t remember saying, but Billy remembers.
“What did I say, Billy?” I ask.
“Whafff di Ah sehhhhh Buhhhhhheeeee,” he mumbles.
As I said, really annoying.

The Cult

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Right in front of their eyes, vision fades to static.
Frightened and confused, we, the masses, heed the call.
Stripping off our clothes, we gather in the woods, swaying in the summer heat, naked… writhing.
One beast, many mouths… many fingers… many hearts beating.
The flesh circle opens briefly, and our leader mounts a tree stump, the cow skull over his head glowing in the moonlight.
We have no choice. We are compelled to listen.
He raises his staff and tells the tales of our childhood, like many generations before.
This is what happens when the neighborhood cable goes out.

Are You Happy?

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There’s a strange machine in the break room.
It’s about six feet tall, shaped like a box. Solid black.
It says “Are you happy?” on it in big white letters.
There’s two buttons on it: YES and NO.
I pushed the YES button and nothing happened.
I pushed the NO button and nothing happened.
Then, I pushed both buttons at the same time.
A drawer popped open, and I took a small yellow pellet out.
Should I swallow it?
I’m not sure. I’ve thought about it, and I can’t decide.
Just like I can’t decide if I’m happy or not.

Birds and the Bees

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For parents who are uncomfortable teaching their kids about… well, you know… the church has tapes teaching in-home sex education.
Well, DVDs these days, but you get my drift. Just sit Little Susie in front of the monitor, hit “Play” and walk away.
The problem is, the pastor’s been known to download… well, unusual movies from the Internet – just for research.
But still, he’s been known to burn the wrong video to a disk.
Right now, Little Susie’s watching “Caged Bitches In Bondage.”
Boy, is she going to have questions. And she’s going to be really popular in high school.

Hannibal Rex

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Nobody trusts old Hannibal Rex, and Hannibal Rex doesn’t trust anybody, either.
I’m not sure why. If you ask around, nobody is.
It’s not like you can walk up to him and ask him “Why don’t you trust anybody, Hannibal?”
Because he doesn’t tell anybody to anything.
And he doesn’t let anyone come close enough to ask him.
He grows his own food, makes his own clothes.
Keeps to himself in the woods.
You could try to write him, but he doesn’t read anything people send him.
And he certainly wouldn’t write down his thoughts.
He looks happy, doesn’t he?

Kill All The Lawyers

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Doctor Odd’s wealth comes from a series of patents he’s licensed the rights to.
If I told you what devices he invented, you’d be amazed.
You’d also be shocked to know that such easy-to-use devices were blamed by countless fools for causing grievous injuries.
They sued Doctor Odd for millions of dollars.
Doctor Odd responded by inventing one last, simple, incredibly useful invention.
Everyone in the world ended up buying one. In fact, each person born into this world is provided with one now.
Oh, and this invention – it also kills lawyers.
(Which makes it even more useful, I suppose.)

The Trail

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I walk the mountain trail, my rage builds as I pick up each and every empty candy wrapper or soda can.
This path was once beautiful, just a simple trail winding its way upward.
Then, someone got it in their mind to simplify it and pave it and stick vending machines at either end.
The trash barrels are always full, so every so often the wind blows off the top layer of trash back into the trail.
It’s quiet right now, just before dawn. There’s a faint breeze blowing through the leaves.
Pretty soon the tourists will come.
Damn them.