A trip to Alice in Wonderland | By: Jerry Vilhotti | | Category: Short Story - Depressing Bookmark and Share

A trip to Alice in Wonderland

Byrom you say you now want to be a writer making millions of dollars! That shows how the super elite hiding deep inside their bunkers have brain washed you into thinking you could do what they are the most afraid of—being a thinking person! Why do you think our dear politicians have fabricated the notion that there is a so called free education and you will be able to serve your country with your brain when they made sure your brain would have water drowning it from putting two thoughts together to vuck with pleasure One on the Other to come out to an understanding? That's why they keep hate alive by having races and ethnic groups calling each other ugly names. Were your normal school teachers like priests not allowed to marry? They weren't because that would have cost money and that's the real god in people's hearts and if there is a true God he will compassionately say all you bastards must go to the great poet's ninth circle of hell for you have betrayed yourselves and all others who trusted you! Did you ever read Luis Bunuel's words where he said: 'In any society, the artist has a responsibility. His effectiveness is certainly limited and a writer or painter cannot change the world. But they can keep an essential margin of nonconformity alive. Thanks to them, the powerful can never affirm that everyone agrees with their acts. That small difference is very important. When power feels itself totally justified and approved, it immediately destroys whatever freedoms we have left, and that is fascism.' You know my dear Byrom Hoover Bush, your great country is now in the womb of all that with no enjoyment. You and all the phonies are being swirled down a toilet bowl but you think it's a ride in an amusement part! And it was you who wanted to come to this city that will find itself one day in Dante's ninth circle because these so-called leaders sold the country out while wearing their flags and phony smiles! Don't they see they're killing the very thing that is sustaining them?" Olivia said, while they were in the nation's capitol on Olivia's dime in a hotel overlooking the Potomac River, using the tone his father struck when displaying his condescension honeyed with venom.

How he had embarrassed her when he did three of his pseudo TB coughing attacks making many people run for cover in a great panic and the he settled the Capitol police down who were going to shoot him dead thinking he was a Bunny Laden though being eight inches shorter than the terrorist by doing his speech therapist's suggestion before saying words that began with a consonant: "Officers (whistle) we are (whistle) Americans (whistle) from Ohio!" His wink made all fifty police persons cock their guns thinking he were going to spill the beans in his code about the hundreds of thousands of voters denied the vote; pulling off a second smoke and mirrors feat within five years ....

Olivia misunderstood Byrom's look of fear which was masking his deep concern that in fact he had used up all his capital and was going to be asked to leave her accommodations and he would be forced to go live once again in a marginal neighborhood to take on his roll of camouflage to allude definition and be caught by agents searching for him for the support payments he owed his wife with the four children of whom he knew for certain the last two were not his.

"Byrom. Byrom you look at me with darting blinking eyes of love. You think I'm far too wonderful to criticize and you always suck in your breath out of respect for me!"

It was moments like this he hated Berlin University educated Olivia, at least ten years his senior, and yet he realized if he were to make it by becoming one of her son's managers at one of his many custard stands in the great state of Our Kind of Democracy, Ohio—not far from Kent State where students got a good learning about disobeying authority—that "indeed" his father, The Old Warrior, often used that word and the expression "I'm, afraid" often in his dazzling display of superiority over those whom he felt inferior, his last chance for success would be dashed forever.

He too would have to watch his ways—if he were ever going to succeed in this survival of the fittest kind of world.

"(Whistle) let's (whistle) go (whistle) see (whistle) the (whistle) sights and our (whistle) great lea... lea...leader!"

" You decided all that by yourself? Talk like a vucking human being!" Olivia said with an expression once owned by Byrom's father.

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