Saturday, December 26, 2015

they multiply.

"oh, look mommy! look! look!" the golden book good-shoes pointed toward a group of older kids. "real anarchists!"

"anarchists?" her brother, mister touches his balloon with wonder, turned his head.


mommy was embittered with distaste. "don't you pay those kids any mind, not in the least."
mommy knew that the anarchists had had sex.

"system! system! system!" the anarchists approached.

mommies eyes widened with panic. "kids, be good kids, okay?"
she looked toward the oncoming anarchists. "i'll come back for you." she pat her two kids on their heads before making a mad dash to a big empty house down the road.

the crowd engulfed mommies two kids with forks and knives. they emerge, ten years later, with their own forks and knives, battered like sharks. these are their battle scars they wear. "system!"

oh dear!