Authors: David Kempf
The big picture was what they always asked of us; the obscenely wealthy make all the rules. Still, the crime rate was very, very low here. The absurd amount of unreported crime in America had now come to a standstill. That was because everyone had the same value system, similar to the Fundamentalist Christian society. The floggings, the castrations, the beheadings……
The women covering themselves in burkas were pretty damn hard to ignore now. Yet, here it was for the eye of the beholder. Their marriages were much happier inside the privacy of their homes. There was a low divorce rate, almost so low that marriages lasted forever.
A little history lesson here. The American Museum of Allah had all kinds of goodies to offer folks. It started with an anti-evolutionary museum that stated Adam and Eve were both Muslims. Then we had all the prophets like Moses leading up to Jesus who apparently had never been crucified. Then Mohamed was the ultimate prophet, the Koran was written and the rest was as they say “history.”
What is it about the human condition that makes us despite freedom so much? Every opportunity to make ourselves into slaves, sheep for the slaughter, we jump at it like it was a winning lottery ticket. Can’t mothers and father just instill morality and ethics deep within the human heart?
“People need others, leaders, false prophets, leper messiahs to tell them what to do. That’s why America wasn’t content to live under the rules of the previous nightmare. It has to always get worse.”
There was order here. The thriving markets, the prayers towards Mecca and the acceptance of one universal monotheism. Many folks knew that drinking, showing skin or God help you… adultery, fornication and homosexuality meant imminent, painful demise.
“We need to see more so let’s just get it the fuck over with,” said Harold.
“I agree.”
We did.
Slavery was legal once again and how ironic. The entire spiritual theory of the Black Muslim movement proved to be an absurdity, historically. They sought to disconnect with their white, Christian slave owners and converted to Islam. If they were genuine and honest, they would have to admit the truth. Christians ceased having slaves and Muslims still had them and not to mention the other great truth, their prophet was Middle Eastern and probably was not black skinned.
The White House was now called “The House of Righteous Imams.” It was used to conduct public executions for such crimes as masturbation, drunkenness, blasphemy, women wearing pants in the privacy of their own homes, reading other holy books like the bible instead of the Koran, thinking sacrilegious thoughts and of course, reading that ancient document called “The United States Constitution.”
“Man this place sure is fucked,” said Harold.
“It surely is,” I answered him.
Then was saw another example of faith based justice. An old pal of ours was in deep trouble…
Their trials were not exactly fair; the usual amount of due process to be sure. Case and in an arrogant man who was starring in his last performance. It appeared to be anyway. If it was a movie I would have suggested something like “Poetic Justice” as the film’s title.
“Infidel, you have disrespected a very important prophet from our faith,” said the executioner.
“I defended you people when the old America was bombing you for oil,” said out of work actor Ian Flick.
“You made a movie about Jesus being a homosexual; we just saw an old copy from decades past.”
“Sir that was a long time ago…”
“It’s blasphemy, we love our prophets.”
“I’ve always been on your side,” he answered.
“No. That is a lie.”
“What do you mean?” Ian pleaded.
“Didn’t you people in Hollywood ever once listen to one of Osama Bin Laden’s tapes?”
“Sure,” he said, his voice obviously full of panic.
“Why did he attack your sick society?”
“Americans were greedy imperialists who wanted to bomb the brown people and force fascism…”
“What?”
I should mention at this point that speaking English was illegal in this wonderful world of the future. Since we were time traveling folk, we could hear and understand every word as if it were spoken in perfect English. I did not know if Flick learned Arabic or they were being condescending to what they obviously felt was a waste of space.
“That’s why you people hated the old America…”
“No. You are wrong.”
“Is that so?” Ian asked as if his life depended upon it. And it did.
“It was not foreign policy as much as your hypocrisy. Calling you a Christian nation while shaming the prophet Jesus and making him a laughing stock. You thought you could make him a cartoon, make him a joke and even make him a sodomite. Shame on you, all you cared about was promoting Marxism and homosexuality, two things that God despises.”
“Oh,” said Flick.
“Allah is just and sees all…”
“I didn’t mean to disrespect you people…”
“You did when you shamed the prophet, Mr. Ian Flick. We know all about you. Your father Kyle Flick was a member of the American Communist Party and called out to the House of Un-American Activities…”
“Shame on fascist America…”
“Your family could not be loyal to your society then which had very few rules; by the way, what would convince us you could be loyal to a strict monotheistic society like ours?”
“I respect you people…”
“Yes,” said the man who would kill Ian Flick very soon.
“Look I’m a good man, a tolerant man, a true believer in multiculturalism…”
“It’s a shame you believe in secular humanism instead of the life of the world to come,” said the executioner.
“He’s a fucking idiot but he doesn’t deserve this.”
“Nobody does,” I answered him.
“Agreed,” he said.
The executioner looked at the naïve and crazy former actor like he would a sheep to slaughter. The original innocent human beings who were deactivated on camera for political propaganda from these sociopaths were referred to as animals by the Islamic elite. They begged the sadists to stop killing or slaughtering in such a manner because it made their faith look bad.
“I fought for freedom to dissent,” said Ian Flick.
“There is no dissent, infidel.”
“Doesn’t my previous record count?”
“It counts for nothing!”
“Why?” Ian pleaded.
“You insulted Jesus…”
I felt nothing more than pity; absolute pity for this man; this sheep who was soon to be brought to slaughter. No Jesus was here to separate the sheep from the goats, the sheep were to have their throats slit and the goats were all scapegoats.
“Ian Flick, do you repent?”
“What?”
“Do you repent?”
The man was so obviously afraid and he should have been.
“Will that save my life, sir?”
“No,” he answered like grim death.
“How will I die?” he asked, full of tremble and fear. He did, of course, already know the answer.
“Beheading,” said the executioner, lacking any trace of human compassion.
“Fuck off!” shouted Ian. “I hope you fucking go to hell, you religious nut job, this society sucks ass, fucker!”
“What about previous America?”
“I was wrong, a self-appointed spoiled child, fuck off, mother fucker!”
Ian Flick grabbed his would be executioner’s balls with his right hand so hard that the wicked hypocrite passed out instantly.
He ran. I mean he ran like hell like his life depended upon it which was ironic because it sure as fucking hell did. The other folks who wanted to sit back and perhaps buy some popcorn while his head was sawed off just sat back pretty much.
“He’ll either have to hide or die, Andrew.”
“True,” I answered.
What other choice did the pretentious narcissist have? I was surprised he made it this far in the new holy order that replaced the last one. I mean you would think the Christians might execute him for starring in a film about Jesus being gay. I guess they didn’t really find any copies until recently. Still, this man who would only compare the previous, free America to an imaginary paradise when he criticized it may have learned his final lesson. Utopia doesn’t exist but religiously inspired fascism does.
“Let’s see his ultimate fate before moving on.”
We did.
Ian Flick, star of such classics as “Party School” and a group of movies that won Oscars was living like a terrorist. He ran so far that he ended up living in a cave.
“It’s Usama bin Movie Star,” said Harold.
“You’re not funny,” I said, laughing.
Living off of potentially poisonous berries and the meat of stray and often rabid dogs, miles from what used to be Washington, Ian Flick no longer lived… he survived. He lived in cave, covering himself up obsessively with pig skin to be blasphemous and ultimate untouchable like a leper.
“This ain’t any party school.”
“Prisons have more to offer, Andrew.”
“Well, maybe it’s better than getting gang raped in the shower.”
We heard the very distinct eating sound that comes from biting into a ripe piece of fruit.
“Apples,” said Harold.
An old friend dropped in but like Casper or Tiny Tim only we could see her.
“Nice world we all live in, Andrew, Harold. Don’t you think?”
We were speechless.
“Oh, don’t worry, I know you can’t talk back, I prefer it that way to be honest now. The world keeps getting worse and worse from your point of view every time you see it, the future story of man that is. Man once was lost but now is found… it could see… but now needs to be blinded forever.”
She was very sexy but very vulgar at the same time. She was lovely with her grey hair and hot body underneath the monk’s robe. She lifted the lower half of the medieval garment and started to touch herself once more. She moaned with excitement, the whole craziness made the old man speechless.
“I am going to end the world, bring about the end times that you fish eaters make fun of so much. One way or the other, it’s going to happen, boys. Now what are you going to do to stop me? It’s going to happen, the end of all things. How do you like them apples?”
We were dumbfounded; we couldn’t speak to someone who wasn’t there.
We didn’t like them apples.
“Well, goodbye until the last goodbye…” The lovely witch with her sensuous hair took a very big and juicy bite out of her apple.
“Let’s go,” said Harold.
We left the whore for a virgin.
A beautiful woman, not very old but not very young either, put her lovely head down in a small bed. She lived in a small cave in what we would call Turkey today. She was dying.
“My God, is that her?” I asked.
“Yes,” Harold answered.
“Our blessed lady right here before our eyes, Harold. It really is a miracle even though we’re still unsure if it really is one.”
“Yes.”
The beautiful lady was dark skinned, middle eastern to be sure. She was alone but looked like she was keenly aware that she was surrounded by those who loved her, even if they just so happened to be invisible.
“She appears as if she will die at peace,” said Harold.
“No doubt about it, Harold.”
There was part of me that was more excited to see her than Jesus. How Catholic is that?
“I think this is the most profound moment of my life,” said Harold.
I smiled at him…
“You know,” he said, tears in his eyes, “I don’t think I ever felt spiritual before, I mean not really by what the true definition should be. All that other stuff was just religion or ritual or those appalling fundamentalist religionists theocracies we just came back from. This is real.”
“It is, Harold.”
“She’s so lovely, a goddess…”
“Don’t say that or Jezebel will say you’re going to hell.”
“You’re not funny,” he said, laughing.
I laughed right back at him.
“My God, it’s Saint Peter himself,” said my great grandfather.
He was full of the spirit now…
“Andrew, Saint Peter is helping our blessed mother with death……”
“I know, Harold, relax, it’s okay, now… I don’t doubt you!”
The woman accepted the anointing and the washing of her feet and continued to smile at the man who denied her son three times. A man who would soon be… crucified upside down according to legend, anyway, things were dark now. Things were getting darker as we looked at the future martyr and alleged leader of the largest Christian church on planet earth. There were other churches but they were insignificant really. As Catholics we could always afford to be tolerant of other Christians. The big dog could always afford to be tolerant of the little dog.
Faith gives us a great sense of security and deepens the meaning of what appears to be a meaningless and random existence. Perhaps she was with the angels and saints in heaven. I guess we won’t know until we die because even with the unnamed species life after death remained an elusive mystery.
Revelations or hallucinations and I didn’t know what they were. Still don’t know. The vision of a woman in a Taliban style burka holding a Koran was terrifying. She wasn’t even a real woman… she was a statue…
A statue that was once Lady Liberty…
We hit home very hard. I had terrible visions of my mother and father as corpses and… well… saw the death of my only friend, my great grandfather. I saw nothing but death and the absurdity of our own mortality everywhere I could see or hallucinate. I damn near took an ax to that horrible bug; I wanted to cut him up piece by piece for ruining my life. I should have either been a rich, selfish spoiled bastard or guilty clergymen who attempted selflessness to atone for my family’s wealth and how they obtained it. Instead I am a cosmic freak who eats bug meat and gets to ride through hell with a man nature never intended him to meet. I don’t want to blame my parents but it’s only natural to do that.
Mom & Dad
Mom and Dad are crazy and use very bad judgment. I’ve never felt like I was very safe in their presence. Perhaps their not crazy so much as they are extremely aloof about what goes on in our town. Emityville is a great town but it has a few problems. Well, it has a lot of problems.
“Heather, it’s time for dinner,” Mom said.