[I’m sorry to say that in these times I must admit that I’m fictional. I never thought before that I’d have to explain why I would write my soul in an odd form as odd as I might be noticed, be loved. But as in a play the characters must not break into their self that is not written in the script. Ignore this.]
The President is Dead
“The President of the United States is dead. The Congress has been informed. We await a full investigation. The preliminary investigation indicates that there was a Star Trek formal party at a White House function where a weapon was mistakenly believed to be a toy. An unknown party crasher drew what looked like a toy weapon and the President was vaporized in an attack similar to the one against the former Vice President. The first Lady is on Air Force One with Zusoiti Gabpix and a contingent of reporters headed for a secret location to witness the swearing in of the new president.”
Things are taking on a really ominous tone. This is mass insanity that suddenly Zusoiti Gabpix is President. She is totally untrustworthy to take on such power. But she was on the verge of seizing power anyway. Hmm, it is odd in a peculiar way because she could have seized power without all the formality. Another sign of arrogance and vanity to want official validation? It doesn’t seem likely that good things can follow from this. Oh yeah, I should get some eggplant parmigiana from one of the apartments and collect some supplies and frozen vegetables. The natural gas to the stove and oven is still working so I guess I’ll be alright for a long time. Maybe. I don’t think I’ll ever go outside again. I’m just going to read and watch whatever TV is left. I think that Utcoozhoo left me a big enough endowment in my bank account so that I can continue to make believe I’m a real person and stay alive alone. Just let me hide a little longer. I can cook. I can dream. I can sing to myself and make believe that Zawmb’yee loves me.
It’s been very quiet for a few days. They are not saying very much on the radio or on the TV. It seems that the Congress has been evacuated in groups from the capital and they’re finding a secret place where they can convene in extraordinary session. Members of the cabinet have been spread out to separate locations in case of an attack.
The official caterers and the Social Secretary have also been put on air force planes so they can immediately plan a safe White-House-Sanctioned Party in a new location.
Hmm, maybe I should move to another apartment down the hallway past where Zawmb’yee and I painted the mural. No, I don’t think I’ll bother. Oh, the silence has ended; there’s a signal tone on the radio, and a text graphic on the TV: THIS IS AN EMERGENCY REPORT, AN UPDATE.
A picture of a press conference room has appeared. It’s very drab. Some parts of walls seem very irregular, almost like a cave wall. The reporters are milling about.
“… Margaret, I think this is unprecedented that we were blindfolded before being brought to this room.”
“Tim, do you have any idea where we are?”
“No,” said Tim turning toward the camera, “we then are reporting to you from an unknown location, and we await the beginning of a press conference. This has been an extraordinary few days and we seem to be on a war footing.”
Margaret said, “It’s been so strange that some sources have suggested that we’re under attack by aliens from outer space.”
“I don’t think that’s it — they issue special visas to aliens from outer space. Don’t they?”
“Ha, that’s funny… wait, we’re getting the two minute warning (people get to a chair before we get the song and dance — this is a nervous crowd and there are not enough chairs).”
President Zusoiti Gives a Speech
A spokesperson stepped up to the podium. There was still a lot of commotion in the room and reporters jockeyed for a good position. “… I present to you the President…”
Zusoiti rushed in and almost knocked over the spokesperson at the podium. She said, “Let’s get started. Having been duly sworn, I declare myself your President, and High Priestess. You may call me Fevepo Zusoiti or Your Majesty.” There was laughter in the room. “Please, decorum; we have a lot to do (Guards, remove that one over there — the laughing hyena. That one will not be laughing anymore when he gets to the maximum security mevltikacle. Aha, we have an extra chair. The hyena will face the music). Make yourself comfortable, focused, and attentive — we have many items to cover.
She continued, “The first order of business is that Congress must convene immediately in emergency session. First, my new cabinet choices will be ratified.
“Next, I will be suggesting new Amendments to the Constitution, and thus, suddenly enlightened, two thirds of Congress shall find in their hearts they deem it necessary to propose Amendments to the Constitution coincidentally like mine, and which also three fourths of the State Legislatures will find delightful.
“Thirdly, I will outline the methods that are already underway to bring on an Ice Age.” There was utter cacophony and hubbub like the chairs were in fallen leaves from notebooks, rustling and squeaking. “Please, have some patience. The caterers have arrived and there will be refreshments afterwards. There will be plenty of time later to relax: we will be having a game of musical chairs with prizes, and a yoga class. For now, pay careful attention to my words…” There was incredible noise in the room. Zusoiti continued, “Well, perhaps we should take a short time out to thin the herd. Please return in one half hour and you may want to research ‘Submarine Volcanos and Hydrothermal Vents’. The conference, computer, and dining rooms are available for your pleasure and study.”
What a mess. This all started when Zusoiti was lured out of the cave to the up-top world, and in her absence was voted off the Grand Council and replaced with Zawmb’yee as High Priestess. It was probably not legal, so theoretically, if Zusoiti showed up in person at the Kmpamew, she could reclaim her position as High Priestess in her own body. But it all depends on who is loyal to tradition, and if there would be a palace coup. Oh hell, oh Kievifkwa, oh who knows.