Friday, January 30, 2009

Erev Shabbos Fiction:  'Isaac' (Part One)

I* drive around Wilmington with a car full of Berettas* and Blackberries* I bought with my thirty gra*nd stash.  I go to eac*h bum-inhabited street corner, equipping each one with heat and a phone.  Creating an arm*y.  Mobilizing the* troops.  A*wait further instruction.  Two years later, I was running the show in D*elaware.  I was*n’t the Governer – that post did not exist anym*ore, I dubbed my*self Chair of the Frameworked An*archists of the Mid-Atlantic.  C-FAMA.  We sprea*d north and south, and then east and west.  Ten years later, we were in control of the entire Western Hem*isphere, and had a fe*w major strongholds in the Eastern.  The consensus was that what we had done was natural and to be expected, it was simply democracy’s natural evolution.


It was a windy day, and Isaac was standing by the bus stop huddled up in his parka, waiting waiting waiting for the bus to arrive.  A scrap of paper was suspended by the wind against the yield sign in front of Isaac.  He grabbed at it out of unfocused, boredom-infused curiosity and read the italicized delusional record of non-events quoted above.  The bus arrived as he crumpled the note into his pocket, figuring that he should save it to show his grandmother upon his return home.  She would get a kick out of it.  Isaac got on the bus.  As he paid his fare and the doors swooshed shut behind him, the bus driver grabbed Isaac – his two dark hands clasped tightly around Isaac’s neck.

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