A Wasteland President, Part 16

It was still dark when Donald raided another Shocko Bell. The stars glittered as he casually devoured the chicken tacos placed haphazardly on his lap. He didn’t know what Barack was on about. Go up to the counter, ask for good, receive food. Simple as that. Plus, he was showing the world that he didn’t need the Secret Service or private jets or adulation to survive. He could survive on the purified nut of mother nature.

The parking lot of the Shocko Bell was understandably empty, except for Donald of course. More cow-faced cats prowled beyond the lights provided by the franchise. They were waiting for a quick and easy meal.

“I know what you’re after,” Donald said to them. “And you’re not getting for it. You’re going to have to work for it like I did.”

One of the cats looked at him fiercely, and then quickly jumped into the bushes. Donald was a little spooked by that. He decided to get up and then walk quickly to the nearest road, which was crumbling and studded with potholes. The road was poorly lit, oozing darkness. He decided to walk until something happened. Fortunately, it didn’t take long for a blue Cadillac to pull up beside him.

“You look a little under the weather. Why don’t you get in the back. Take a load off,” a rough-looking man in his fifties said, pulling on Donald’s sleeve to anchor him to the vehicle.

“Okay,” Donald replied, sliding into the backseat with a grace few enjoyed. The driver turned to look at him, his eyes glowing like one of the cow-faced cats. Donald was more spooked now than he was being alone in that parking lot.

“I’ve been following you for some time. Quietly.”

“My people would’ve noticed,” Donald said haughtily.

“You don’t have people. But I can change that.”

“Huh?”

“I think you should run for President.” The man who spoke wore a long hood. His voice sounded positively…senatorial.

“I’ve been floating the idea around. I like the way you think.”

The man leaned closer to Donald. The hood grazed a sweaty forehead. “Let me put it to…you…this way. Palm Beach–nay–all of Florida, needs your help. But more importantly, you need Florida’s help.”

Donald squinted. “I don’t really understand.”

“You’re a talker, not a thinker. And that makes you the most important man alive. More importantly, if you want to remain that way, you’ll have to ascend to the presidency. Florida memorial cannot cure what ails you. But the government can. What do you say?”

Donald’s head dropped. “The people won’t elect me looking like this.”

“Oh, you…underestimate…your ability to inspire pity. You ran on anger. Run on pity now. For your sake. For…Florida’s sake.”

Donald was wondering what was wrong with the man. Why was he pausing so much when he spoke? He didn’t have much time to ponder that question as the Cadillac abruptly stopped. Secret Service men were getting out of the vehicle blocking its path. They didn’t look happy.

A Wasteland President, Part 15

A Wasteland President, Part 1

 

 

Always a Frenzy

Another game
Another round through the tunnels that be
The beast took a clever route
Not wanting fire to lick its heels
But flames were subservient too
Waiting for wood or delicious mushrooms

Nothing a canine human hybrid could really do
Except to just keep taking those clever routes
Hoping that another path out of the labyrinth would appear

Hybrids always went in circles though
Mechanically and with a certain rhythm
Up, down, right, left
The timing was impeccable

Orange knives licked arrows in all directions
Knowing self-obsolescence was near
And that omnipotence was a step away

 

The Chamber

It was a game of daises
Placed carefully on the floor of the vast chamber
The shadows helped
Keep royalty in line

But the artificial lakes helped too
Requiring resources to cross
And resilience to make the journey profitable

One leader and her crew built a raft to cross the mighty lake
Anything could’ve been over there
The journey would probably be worth the trouble
Since domestic royalty was a little too fierce for her liking

So the mystery seemed less challenging by comparison
And they crossed with aplomb

via Daily Prompt: Create

The Better Paragons of Our Nature

He was labeled a paragon of the left
“And rightly so”
The other side said
But there was something insidious going on
Something that went bump in the midday sun
Only to level out and hide in the dark

Even the atmosphere was captured properly on cameras
Correct angles had to be verified
So that death or violence could be associated with something else
And a withering lens could see blood spilled on the bases as a home run

Truly a different age
A gilded goblet
Given by up above

Paragon

The Ol’ Wagon

He was an ethical gent with a beard
She, the sentinel of the wagon’s interior
They both had important jobs

This trail was deadly
It could turn into the gates of heaven in the blink of eye

She looked upon his beard lovingly
He stroked it thoughtfully
They were mindful of various diseases
And the unpleasant dead ends life could create

The lil’ sprouts swayed in the back of the wagon
Laughing with a sense of purpose
He combed his fingers through a trail of grey hair
She reprimanded those that swayed

Everything seemed to be going well
Then she noticed the top of the wagon had been punctured
And their whole world came crashing down

The sprouts wilted
Clearing a path for devilish eyes

Puncture

Adam West Fiction “One Final Labyrinth”

The beloved bat looked forlornly at the wall made up of crushed gallons of milk. His sidekick was looking at the wall too, squinting at the harsh sunlight.

“When do you think it will end, Batman?”

“The madness, you mean?”

“No, I meant the sunlight,” his sidekick said. The beloved bat looked at his sidekick, who was gangly-looking and wearing bright red lipstick.

“I don’t suppose you’d consider changing colors? You might look less garish.”

The Prince of Green looked at the bat. “Red wards off the run. And besides, it complements my hair.”

“I can’t argue with royalty,” the bat said. “You are the Prince of Green, after all. Say, why don’t you summon an airship or a retinue of veterans to rescue us from this purgatory.”

But the Prince didn’t answer. Indeed, the Prince wasn’t present at all.

“Where did you go, my dear Prince? I’d of thought you would’ve stuck around to the end.”

The only response the bat received was the hard-to-perceive sound of those decaying gallons. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t decay in enough time to spare his patience. So he walked the lonely paths lined with rejected vessels hoping the Prince of Green would appear.

“We’ve always had a tense relationship, dear Prince. That’s no reason to abandon a well-functioning duo.”

Before the bat could finish his speech, he fell through a question mark-shaped hole in the ground. All of a sudden, he was soothed. Here he was in his natural environment, nestled in a labyrinth beneath a labyrinth. Those pesky gallons still formed barriers against anything else, but Adam was coming to peace with them. They were part of this world, slowly rotting away.

“Whatever happens to this world, I’ll persevere,” Adam said to himself. “Unwanted gallons be damned!”

Adam approached what looked like an altar.

“Go due west,” the altar said, a voice coming from below. “You’ll find your answers there.”

Adam decided to follow the altar’s advice. He headed due west, through ever-narrowing corridors dotted with question marks. Clay hand prints dotted the dots, making Adam suspicious. Something nefarious was going on. He started to doubt the sage words of an always reliable altar. But as soon as he did so, he entered a cavernous room. The gallons had gone, replaced with rocky walls and more clay hand prints.

A being was sitting in a posh chair covered in red. “The Prince of Green! I’d recognize that shade of red anywhere!”

It was indeed the Prince of Green, but his left arm ended in a clay-ish stump. The Prince offered a malicious glare.

“Sorry for the deception, bat, but it was necessary.”

Adam became a little flustered. After all, his sense of justice had been rattled.

“Deception is a tool of the morally polluted!”

The Prince of Green motioned with his clay-ish stump, and shadows started to come out of the woodwork, revealing their true selves.

The Joker appeared, seeming calm and cool-headed. The Penguin, short but devious, took off his top hat, bending a bald head. A riddler wearing pjs stepped out of the dark, yawned and looking benignly at the bat.

“You’re surrounded, my friend,” said the Prince of Green, who tripled in size as the mind behind the shape let go. It was clayface in all his dramatic glory. Vines crept up behind his massive shoulders, and a throne of ivy was rose above his head, sitting inside it was  of course the red-haired poison ivy.

“The Goad-dess of plants herself!”

“At your command!” she said.

Adam was confused, and getting a little angry. Why were they being so nice to him?

“It’s time to let go, Adam,” clayface said, his mask of sadness deepening in the candlelight.

Adam smiled, the reality of things finally dawned on him. “I suppose you’re right,” he said. “But there’s just one last thing.” He looked expectantly into the shadows.

Robin appeared, giving a bow. So this was it. The end of an era. As Robin and the bat walked into the doorway of light, Adam thought that nothing could be this simple. There had to be a catch. But his old enemies were smiling and waving. The Joker, the archbishop of Evil, his greatest nemesis, was waving too. Adam did the same, punching Robin lightly on the shoulder as they passed from one level of existence to another.

Maybe Adam would give David Bowie a call. It was only fitting.

 

Trees Taper

They gave meaning to a vast horizon
But the trees were slowly tapering to a green keyhole
Which was surrounded by desert

There was no use racing to the finish line
It was reducing quickly
He wouldn’t make it in time
How would he fill an eternity in the desert, then?
He couldn’t count grains of sand forever
At least not without cracking

There had to be a way to reach the keyhole
Though it had diminished even more
Changing to a tired green

Surprisingly, he made it just as the oasis was cutting off reality
A dilemma presented itself
Since existing in two realities was usually a challenge

Taper