Glorious leader Biden spoke today! What a joy it was to hear his voice. I salute you, President Biden, wherever you are, with palm down and arm extended. Never have so few voted so many times to bring so much pleasantness to a nation. Our lives are certainly better (approximately 3% better according to the Dominion poll) than they were under the orange fascist, may his name never be engraved on a park bench! If only we had never had those four years of darkness. But as the saying goes, there’s a sliver of silver in every cloud.
I wave to my friend, Barry, who stands thirty-six places ahead of me in line. It was thirty-seven places, but a woman, with apparently no endurance, passed out an hour and a half ago. Survival is not for the weak as Darwin said, rest his soul or whatever we atheists have. I can’t understand why she went down. It’s only …
“Hey, Barry. What time is it?”
“Eleven o’clock.”
“At night or in the morning?”
“In the morning.”
See. It’s not even noon. Less than six hours of standing, four for her, and she’s curled up on the ground like a dried-up worm. They don’t make ‘em like they used to. Letting a little hunger take her out. My word! Hunger is weakness leaving the body. Silent endurance is what makes a worthy citizen.
Ah, the line moved again. I bet I’ll be in the doors by two. Double or nothing says there’ll be toilet paper. Not that I mind using gravel to wipe. Glorious leader has taught me to be happy in all circumstances.
Today is an especially exciting day for me. It’s my birthday, and you know what happens on your birthday! I can’t decide if I’ll go for the slice of beef or the extra portion of beans. I think I’ll go for the beef. How long has it been since I tasted meat? Was it before or after I broke my wrist? Let’s see. I broke my wrist during the Winter Solstice gift exchange. The doctor saw me the week after the Barack Obama birthday holiday. So, definitely before.
Meat it is. I’ve had my fill of beans. Don’t take that as a complaint. I love beans! And rice! And that seasoning they add to everything. By everything, I mean beans and rice, and by seasoning, I mean dust. Mmm. Yum.
By the way, the doctor did a fantastic job. I’d recommend him highly. Sure, he reset my ankle twice before working his way upward. I assumed, when he saw my hand flopping, he’d naturally know what was wrong. It really was my fault, not communicating clearly enough what the problem was. While bandaging my wrist, the doctor confessed that he didn’t actually want to be a doctor and didn’t think he was qualified to go to medical school. But he had the correct intersectionality score, so glorious leader sent him. And glorious leader always knows best. I cheerfully flopped my hand at him as I left his office with my other wrist wrapped in the cast.
In case you’re wondering, my wrist eventually healed as all injuries do given enough time. I’m not sure why my thumbs point in the same direction, though. Has it always been that way? Ah, who cares? When life is this good, what difference does it make?
“Hey, Barry. Look! Over there.”
“Where?”
“Over there. Ah, dang it. You missed it, Barry.”
“Was it a good one?”
I laugh. “What I saw, yes. I only caught the end of it, but the look on the woman’s face as they dragged her out of the house. Oh, it was priceless.”
“What did she do?”
“I don’t know. Do I look like a mind reader?”
“Were her kids screaming and hanging on to her?”
“You know it!”
“Dang it! Those are always the best.”
“I know her.”
The person in front of me turns around. A man with a dull look on his face, a midwestern transplant if I’ve ever seen one, speaks. He smells of despair and ignorance. I decide to denounce him to the police the first chance I get. I better think of a good excuse. I bet he voted for the orange fascist. That’ll work. Who cares if it’s true? He makes me sick.
“I know her,” he repeats. “She cared for my wife after her surgery.”
“What was wrong?” I surprise myself at how well I fake concern.
“She went in for a checkup. Sometime during the wait, she caught pneumonia. They removed half her liver and her left kidney. While lying on the recovery gurney, her wounds got infected. They gave her antibiotics – and it only cost me ten more years of indentured servitude, might I add – which is quite the bargain. The antibiotics cured both her infection and the pneumonia. We were so blessed to get such a skilled doctor.”
“Yes. Such a blessing, heil Biden.”
“Heil Biden.”
A wave of relief passed over me when I realized he’d stopped talking. The relief turned to despair when he turned around to face me and begin again. A large rock to the side of his head shut him up and earned me one place closer to the door. The only downside is now I’d never know why the secret police dragged that woman away.
Thank government for the secret police! They are so much better than the old police we had who’d go shooting people of color willy-nilly. All that oppression. Ugh. I’m so glad we don’t have to deal with that anymore.
Uh oh. That woman escaped. She’s running back up the street towards us. Five policemen are following close behind. She’s pretty quick for someone so malnourished. There’s no way she’ll be able to put up a fight if they ever catch her. I’m kind of rooting that she’ll get away. Not because I’m on her side. I just know that, when they eventually find her, she’ll get a double re-education.
Go! Faster! You can do it!
Ah, crap. They got her. Oof. Oh my. That was a hard shot. I’m not sure I should watch, but I do enjoy a good beating. Oooh. It sounded like someone took a stick to a watermelon. I hope it wasn’t her head … oh, it was … ha, ha, ha. They’re going at her again. That young police officer has a quick baton. He should be on that reality show, the one where the noble youth of our land teach the stubborn, former conservatives to learn the joy of the socialist way. A few whacks from him and even Ben Shapiro will be singing a new tune.
She’s not moving anymore. The boot to her ribs makes it look like she is, though. Oh, well. Shows over. Time to get back to business.
“What time is it, Barry?”
“Eleven oh four.”
“Morning or night?”
“Morning.”
That’s good. I enjoy standing in line. It’s better than being in the house. That reminds me. I better call the city about the electricity. It’s almost the seventeenth. My day for hot water. I don’t want them to forget like last month. If they do, no worries. I’m sure glorious leader will solve this problem too. Just like he has every other one.