A Wasteland President, Part 7

Trump woke to a sweet Florida night, with crickets chirping and alligators lurking. The trunk opened softly, revealing Michelle’s noncommittal face.

“Let’s start over, Donald.”

“A fresh start? I’d like that,” Trump said, lifting himself clumsily out of the car and dusting himself off. He gave Michelle an even glare.

“Careful,” Barack said, getting closer to the two.

“I can handle a feeble old man,” Michelle commented. “Unless he has a stun gun or something.”

“I was just sizing her up, that’s all. I respect how cool-headed she is in a conflict.” Trump handed her what looked like a small paperweight. “Here, I found this in the trunk. Thought you might find it useful.”

“Donald, don’t give my wife gifts.”

“No, it’s alright. I actually didn’t expect him to be a generous person. It’s a refreshing twist.”

“I am a generous person when the chips are down. When it matters.”

“You just woke up a couple of hours ago. Pace yourself,” Barack said, motioning for a Secret Service agent to come closer. The agent took the gift away.

“We’ll talk about this later, Barack,” Michelle whispered.

“I agree. Besides, we should get inside before the alligators come out. Arguments can wait till morning.

“Yeah. I’m tired. Sleep would be good.”

“You’ve been sleeping for one hundred years, Donald!” Barack said.

“I don’t know if I entered REM.”

The car was already parked in a shady motel parking lot. The trio walked into the building without a challenge. Barack jumped when the bushes rustled. But it was just a weird new mutation of the domesticated cat. It had the face of a cow but the fangs of a wolf.

“I thought it was an alligator,” Barack said.

“I actually prefer the alligators to those things.”

As they entered one of the rooms, more of the cow-faced cats scattered, and Barack jumped. Trump made a beeline for one of the soft-looking chairs in the corner. He was asleep within minutes, Michelle’s ranting about how the accommodations in Spain were better having lulled him to sleep.

A Wasteland President, Part 6

A Wasteland President, Part 8



Had two fiction projects in the works, but they are reclined on the therapist’s couch, complaining of an “this is extremely boring” complex.

Need to get the engine going again. Need to resurrect “5:31am” and “Everything Changed.”

Post Robbery Bliss

The tin can man had been duped
Watches, pearls, cashmere scarves
This was it
This was the jackpot
That would become a golden stepping stone
He could ensure the security of his family forever
But did he need them anymore?

They were a convenient mythology during the act itself
Now they were faded sources of vague irritation
This salesman could be free
Maybe he would toss them a scarf or two
Even a watch
Generosity could expand the heart across oceans
No need for letters
They would know he cared

Maybe tin can man would receive a letter
After all, he paid the price for all this luxury
What a sweet heart

A rhythmic robbery

5:31am, part 15

“Yes, ma’am!” Zeke said, saluting Mrs. B after squirting more soap into the sudsy dish pile. Everything was humming like clockwork on that magical Sunday afternoon. Tommy tried to hide his happiness from the group. Lamarr was keeping herself occupied with a set of blocks, gurgling strangely but still content. Dad hid behind his exquisite wooden sculptures. He was enjoying a bout of confidence because a very affluent person had purchased an angel statue after receiving a splinter. The buyer said “it was a sign.” Apparently, his dad had two very influential fans. One heavenly, the other, a desperate mortal. Meanwhile, Tommy’s mom was on the phone with her accounting firm. Both of his parents had the entrepreneurial mindset, but in different ways.

Something was definitely up with Lamarr, though. Her gurgles seemed otherworldly, and she was a bit more detached than usual. Did the experience at the cemetery embed itself into her psyche? Tommy was scrutinizing her carefully. She looked at him sporadically, giving him an animalistic, almost cognizant look.

Zeke was glancing at him too, making sure that he wasn’t too disgruntled after being deceived.

Despite some of the underlying tension, it was a brilliant sunny day and a tenuous peace reigned. Commercials were in the background too, pumping a stream of color and ambition into them without anyone perceiving a malicious or destructive force. Everyone had their things, both in hand and in the future, and those things provided a warm blanket that allowed for a constant hazy bliss. Tommy realized then that he was willing to fight for a peace that was eternally ready to burst at the seams. He had taken it for granted before, but those lazy summer days seemed like they would never get here again. And even if they did, someone was trying to infuse chaos into everything.

But Tommy wasn’t ready, and after looking over at Zeke, he was sure that his friend wasn’t either. In fact, everyone was sensing a cruel change and wanted to seize this era with a strength that prior to the last couple of weeks seemed like it didn’t need to exist. Tommy even tried bargaining to some higher power. “I’ll take these slightly depressing changes if that means things won’t get worse.”


Everything Changed, Part 3

She wandered closer to the cluster of vehicles. Claw marks had tainted their once cheery exteriors. But what was their use in the past world? She wanted to say transport, but wasn’t sure. The word sounded alien and her tongue felt heavy as she prepared to speak it.

The moaning from somewhere behind the vehicles forced her tongue to remain inactive. These things were vicious when roused, and she had to be careful. Vicious and tenacious. One had followed her for four days once. She just didn’t have the strength to kill it. Something else presumably did.

But now there was more than one. At least two or three. And she was even weaker. She decided to shamble away, making her way to the grocery store. It was a greater risk, but the payoff could potentially be huge. She might even be able to get her mind back.

The sign said “O-Mart.” She saw too many shadows lingering behind the front door, so decided to try her luck with the rear entrance. The setting sun was still baking her skin as she made her way to the back of the store. Not as much moaning back here. Other sounds, but not moaning. Something strange was happening. It sounded like a tire was being stripped to its bald state.

She wasn’t scared, though. A different predator was preferable to the usual fare.

Everything Changed, Part 2

The grocery store still squatted. But the shadows seemed slower, which told her that night was on its way. She thought to herself that she was telling time more efficiently, using the cues the world gave her rather than that device with hands that now seemed unpredictable and chaotic. She always avoided them. They made people age, albeit slowly, and they eventually ended up as moaning husks. She wondered how long it would be until she turned into one, but avoiding their damning gazes would help slow the sprouting of grey hairs and rotting skin.

Her stomach rumbled in hunger. But she was nauseous too. The vaccine always killed her appetite.

Voices were close by. They bounced off the cars and fled the ground for the sky. She always fantasized about doing that. The steel blue being beckoned with loving arms. It would embrace you and wouldn’t expect you to survive.

But the voices continued, freeing themselves but selfishly anchoring her to reality.