Once upon a time, a dark lord, with
the furtive connivance of a despot on a distant land, tricked the good
people of an exceptional nation, a nation of manifest destiny, into
choosing him as their elected leader. The dark lord cast wicked spells
over many of the citizens and deluded them into thinking he would bring
them succor from their struggles and sorrows. Not all of the people of
the land were fooled, and many stoutly resisted the dark lord. The dark
lord stumbled and flailed in his sordid attempts to oppress and
persecute the people, and gnashed his teeth over his repeated failures.
To glorify and aggrandize himself, and deceive the people into
believing in his witchcraft, the dark lord misappropriated unto himself a
national holiday, and strove with pretense and chicanery to make it
into a celebration of himself. But the heavens were not fooled. When
the appointed day for the holiday arrived, dense clouds appeared in the
skies and showered the land with tears--tears for the los pobres and los
ninos kept in the dank dungeons of the dark lord; tears for los
desaparecidos, the children separated from their parents, never to be
re-united. And thunder, the angry rumblings of the skies, signaled
celestial disapproval of the necromancer. The dark lord, heedless of the
portents, pressed on with his depraved revelry. But what will be the price of his recklessness?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment