charlotte, who had listened charitably to frank’s bombastic ramblings, finding them at least well-intentioned, no longer found them at all meaningful.
and after enduring a last meaningless sputtering tirade against the whole ungrateful ignorant universe, showed him the door.
frank was mediocre - an unforgivable limitation in her book.
how nugatory it all was!
the world seemed to resume its natural course.
and everything went back to normal.
but fate is omnipresent.
and the parliamentary upheavals resumed with a new urgency and ferocity.
power struggles, large and small, erupted in all walks of life.
pete plumworthy, a spawn of satan, emerged as the new champion of privilege.
the previously quiescent mob embraced him enthusiastically as its savior.
it all seemed quite reductive to the self-appointed cognoscenti of the official media.
roberta rogers, an erstwhile restaurant hostess representing herself as a revolutionary of the old school, rose to challenge pete.
pete and roberta were both denounced as reactionaries by sam snick, a panhandler and prophet from portland maine.
tess tucker, the unchallenged empress of all media, thought it all suspiciously serendipitous.
but in a sensational interview with tess, watched by billions across the globe, pete announced that he and roberta were joining forces to usher in a new age for humanity.
sam snick rallied his followers to new heights of subversive action and protest.
for a brief moment, it seemed that transgressive ideas would carry the day.
but it all proved illusory and underwhelming.
a valetudinarian caution prevailed, embodied by the person of uncle bob burnside, an elder statesman who emerged from his shack by the seashore to calm the roiling waters of revolution and reaction alike.
the walpurgisnachtian night seemed over.
just as charlotte was finishing up her extrapolatory account.
having barged into the room as she was putting on her finishing touches, frank resumed his yammerings.