bonus story 2

donald trump read the ten thousandth online entry - that day! - cursing him and hating him, and he began to cry. that’s it, he thought, i can’t take it any more. forget retiring to a monastery, because there probably is not a monastery in the world that will take me. i will just have to hang myself. he took a rope out of his desk and headed out to the back yard of the white house where there was a tree suitable for his purpose. but when he reached the tree, who should he find waiting for him but st peter. look here, don, st peter got right down to business, it is your decision as to what you wish to do. but before you go through with it, i have some fellows and a couple of gals here who have a few things to say to you. first off, let me introduce sir isaac newton and professor albert einstein, who will explain to you how the universe works. professor einstein stepped forward, brandishing his beloved pipe. you understand, don, he began, that there are seven basic elements in the universe. if you say so, professor, donald said. i hope you don’t expect me to remember all of them. ha ha. no, the only one that concerns us here is the seventh and strongest one - the one that threatens to overwhelm al the others snd destroy the universe. i refer, of course, to hatred. are you with me so far? i guess, donald replied. i know all about hatred. but what you may not know, einstein said, is that hatred inexorably builds up over the years and centuries, and with the huge increase in human population over the last few centuries - and humans are the largest producers of hatred, sir isaac newton interjected, with no one, not even scorpions or sharks or stonefish producing so much hatred per cubic ounce. hatred can not be dissipated, einstein resumed, but its effects on the wider universe can be limited if it focused on a few individuals. that is where you come in. donald nodded. i think i begin to understand. st peter stepped forward again. i said i had some guys and a few gals for you to meet, don, and here they are. donald looked up and beheld hitler, stalin, mao zedong, richard nixon, genghis khan, attila the hun, pontius pilate, salome, marie antoinette, and margaret thatcher. stalin stepped forward and grasped donald’s hand. i just want to say, donald, how proud we all are of you , and what a great job you are doing under conditions none of us could have dreamed of. thats right, brother, hitler added. i thought i had it rough - but what did i have to put up with, just hatred from countries i was running over! nothing from my own country, until a little bit at the end! and in our day, margaret thatcher put in, all we had was television and the gutter press - every little jackanapes in the street didn’t have an organ of propaganda and hatred in his pocket that he could beam from 24 hours a day! i used to cry myself to sleep every night, said marie antoinette, and all i had to put up with was pamphlets - hand-printed pamphlets! i think i can speak for all of us, genghis khan said, when i say the job gets tougher all the time and you are the greatest of them all. three cheers! shouted salome. three cheers for the donald! think you can carry on, big fella? richard nixon asked when the cheers had subsided. you have shown you can handle it. we don’t know if anyone else can. i - i’ll do it, donald managed to choke out. i - i’ll do everything i can to show you guys your faith in me is not misplaced. st peter simply said, thank you, and they all disappeared . donald was left alone on the white house lawn with the rope he had been going to hang himself with. he wandered back into the white house. whew, he thought, that was emotionally draining. i need some sustenance. he called mcdonalds and ordered three bacon egg and cheese mcgriddles, three orders of hash browns, and a mango pineapple smoothie and a strawberry banana smoothie. then he called dunkin and ordered a dozen glazed donuts.

bonus story

donald trump woke up. he had had a strange dream, which caused him to question his whole existence. what a miserable slacker i have been, he thought, and what a shoddy job i have done in my capacity of emperor of the world. ever since the magic ruby fell from the sky and landed in my pocket, giving me the power of life and death over all living creatures on this earth, all i have used it for is to sow hatred and discord, racism and misogyny and tribalism and capitalism and war and paranoia and unhealthy life styles. i will turn the magic ruby over to some more worthy owner, somebody like ms jennifer collins of london ontario, or ms gloria jones of durban south africa, so that she may use it to make a world a better place, a happy land of peace, plenty, fairness, and diversity, and rid of oppression, alienation, aggression, poverty, pollution, cholesterol, injustice and inequality. i myself will then retire to a monastery in the syrian desert, or hang myself. i will do this, donald thought, after i have my breakfast. he then ordered his usual breakfast of two sausage and egg mcmuffins with hash browns and a chocolate shake. but just as donald was putting the first mcmuffin into his mouth, bernard moreau, of kaiserslautern germany, woke up. bernard had had a strange dream, which gave him confidence that someday he would conquer the world, or at least find a nice girl who would be his slave. he rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but gave up after fifteen minutes and got up and got dressed and had a cup of coffee and went to work.

the magic ruby

the magic ruby fell from the sky. it landed in the dust on one of the roads to the great city, the capital of the mighty empire. the empire had been ruled for many years, not particularly wisely or well, by the emperor grop xvii, who liked to eat, but took little pleasure or interest in any other activity, especially the activity of ruling the empire. all this would change with the fall of the magic ruby into the road. the magic ruby gave whoever possessed it absolute power over the heavens and the earth, and all living creatures crawling under the one and on the other. the last time the magic ruby had fallen to earth it had been picked up by grop xvii’’s distant ancestor, a wandering minstrel named bobo, who had established the empire and crowned himself marcus the first, the magnificent one. now, a new age was to begin. the ruby lay in the road. four dusty roads led to the road the ruby was lying in. a little peasant approached from each of the four roads. the first little peasant, who approached from the west, was named eugene mao. he was a lazy good-for nothing fellow, but quick to take offense, especially at what he took to be jokes at his expense. he had lost his job as a schoolmaster in the little village he had grown up in, and he was making his way to the great city to start a new life as a stevedore’s assistant. but in his heart he had bigger dreams. the second little peasant was a young girl named joan. she had no last name. she had been suspected of being a witch in her village, and despite being of a naturally placid disposition and inclined to take things one day at a time, she decided it would be best if she headed to the city, rather than face the fate of so many other anonymous wretches before her. she was willing, once she reached the city, to do anything. the third little peasant was named frankie lee. she had been the town tramp, and after running through all the men in the town and being threatened by half the women, determined to try her luck in the great metropolis, where she was sure her attributes would be appreciated, and her talents allowed to flourish and be rewarded. the fourth little peasant was named donald trump. a crafty roundshouldered fellow, wth a permanent smirk on his moon face, he had been noted in his village for his annoying habit of providing his neighbors, young and old, male and female, reputable and disreputable, and rich and poor, with irritating and insulting nicknames. once donald had attached a name to a person, he would repeat it at every opportunity with infuriating persistence. finally one day, the village blacksmith, big john the baptist, whom donald had christened “big butt” - “hey big butt! hey big butt!” - had enough, and he fell upon donald and whipped him with a single tree to within an inch of his life. the other villagers, seeing this, gleefully joined in and drove donald out into the high road and out of their lives. these then, were the four peasants who approached the magic ruby. the ruby lay glittering in the dust, as the sun went down…

2019

by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

the world is filled with poets and dreamers and would be rulers of the earth but here’s a tip of the hat to the billions who were not cursed from birth to the folks who get up in the morning and greet the dawn with a yawn who feed the pigs and chickens and put the coffee on who drive the groaning trucks through the night filled with beef patties and buns to stock up mcdonalds and burger king so you can greet the sun the folks in angola and the ivory coast and ecuador and peru who grow quadrillions of coffee beans just for me and you let’s not forget the chickens and cows with only one life to end and end it in a bun with a special sauce to feed their human friends and the sad and happy programmers and lonely writers of code who enable your phones and devices they truly carry the load and all the bedpan carriers and nurses in uniforms white who keep our miserable carcasses afloat through another day and night all the drivers of cabs and buses and the mechanics who tighten their bolts to glide you across the continents with no unnecessary jolts o all you poets and dreamers who hunger for glory and fame you have not time in your flickering lives to know their names

the petitioners, part 3

by horace p sternwall

part three of three

to read part two, click here

to read part one, click here

“i never thought it would come to this,” the man in the purple pin-striped suit said as he took his seat. “just tell me your story,” the man behind the desk told him. “somewere in a dusty file cabinet in cincinnati ohio,” the man in the purple pin-striped suit began, “is a document that the world would call my birth certificate. but the date on it is not the real day that i was born. i was born on a rainy, foggy evening - i think it was in chicago, but it might have been st louis or denver. i was standing in the shadows in a doorway three doors down from the opera house, wondering whether to wait for the rain to stop or to just go about my business and get wet. a long black limousine, polished to a high shine and gleaming in the falling rain like a sleek prehistoric beast stealthily crossing the steppes of central asia, passed me and stopped in front of the opera house. a chauffeur in a tastefully understated blue uniform got out , walked around to the passenger door and opened it. the doorman of the opera house was ready with a black umbrella the size of brazil. a woman in a mink coat emerged from the long black limousine. a woman not particularly fat nor thin, and from my vantage point on the doorway, and with the rain steadily falling, i could not tell if she was young or old. i was not really paying much attention. suddenly there was movement from a doorway across the street from me. a raggedy bum and an old yellow dog emerged and headed for the sidewalk where the doorman was carefully adjusting the black umbrella the size of brazil over the head of the neither fat nor thin woman in the mink coat. quicker than the archangel gabriel blowing his horn on judgment day, the chauffeur in the tastefully understated blue uniform, and a couple of sturdy roughnecks that the opera house kept on hand for just such occasions, fell upon the raggedy bum and the old yellow dog and sent them back into the street before they could get within twenty feet of the woman in the mink coat, who was still safe under the umbrella the size of brazil, and whom they no doubt intended to ask for a few miserable pennies. just then another, even longer and blacker and shinier limousine, no doubt carrying another woman in a mink coat and perhaps a gentleman or two in a top hat, came around the corner and hit the old yellow dog, sending it hurtling into the air. the dog fell into the street, deader than goliath after he had been smitten by little david, deader than samson after the temple fell around him, deader than judas after he hanged himself. the raggedy bum began to cry. all in a night’s work in the great city., i thought. nothing i had not seen a hundred times before. then the woman laughed. the woman in the mink coat, who was neither fat nor thin, young nor old, safe and warm under the umbrella held by the doorman of the opera house, laughed. i was born, truly born, in that instant. i realized that everything i thought was true, was false. that everything that i had been taught was a lie. that civilization was a sham and an illusion. in her laughter i heard many things. i heard the sound of a million backs breaking under the weight of a billion stones, to build great tombs for a thousand mighty conquerors. i heard the cries of millions of children, and cats and dogs and cows, crushed under the hooves of the horses of armies rushing like the four winds, back and forth across the seven continents, with the music of the orchestra of devastation swelling above them. i heard whips singing in the wind, driving slaves across the seven deserts, to dig gold from mountains, or wave fans above the perfumed heads of queens. i heard the cries of sailors, drowning in the seven seas, bringing serpents and peacocks to cleopatra and the queen of sheba. i heard the smirking chatter of scientists and evil magicians, puffing on their meerschaums and corncob pipes, building bombs to blow up the earth and everything and everybody in it. i knew in that instant that so-called civilization had to be destroyed. and i resolved to do my part to destroy it, and build a newer, truer civilization on top of its smoldering ashes. from that day forward, my friend, i have walked the earth, preaching defiance to the mighty, and exhorting the downtrodden to awaken. i must confess that the results of my efforts to this point have been somewhat discouraging. but not for lack of effort. i have walked the dark streets of the ancient empires, trembled in the thunder of the gleaming capitals of the new empires, crossed the burning sands of bone-strewn deserts, swatted insects and trodden on snakes in mighty jungles, heard the music of the damned echoing through the alleys and bazaars of the oldest cities of the world… “ “can i ask you a question?” the man behind the desk interrupted the man in the purple pin-striped suit. “of course. “ “have you ever considered doing an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay?” “sir, i consider the destruction of civilization to be the most honest work there is.” “maybe. but i have had a long day, and i have heard enough. your application will be considered, and you will be notified if it accepted.” “that is all i can ask.” the man in the purple pin-strped suit stood up, clicked his heels, put his black bowler hat on his head, and departed. with a sigh, the man behind the desk picked up his phone and spoke to the secretary in the waiting room. “anybody else still out there, miss hudson? if there are, send them on their way.” he allowed a few minutes for the remaining petitioners to depart and a few minutes after that he was standing in front of the elevator with miss hudson. “another long day, mr garver?” miss hudson asked. “a very long day, miss hudson. it must be up to you and me to do the work of the world because it seems nobody else is interested.” the elevator dinged. “and my back is killing me.” end of part 3