Nightmare Pimple

The eighty thousand capacity Arena of Selflessness was packed with over one hundred thousand bodies. These bodies had mouths, and the mouths were all shouting, “Long live the Dictator! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!” Then the Dictator stepped up on the platform in the midst of and high over the throngs of bodies and held out his hands for silence. Not a sound was heard. On a slightly lower platform stood all the great dignitaries of the world—the thugs, the hypocrites, the movie stars, the shahs, the petty little tyrants and, of course, the subjective news media. They all stood smiling, with great expectation.

The Dictator grasped the microphone and said, “Today, O mighty people, I give you mandatory service!” A wild roar went up out of the one hundred thousand mouths, and then all went silent as The Dictator spoke again. “This is not all. I am raising your income taxes to ninety percent of your earnings!” Again a powerful roar filled the air. And again silence. “Our free and mighty nation shall be known as the greatest altruistic country in the history of the world! As of today I am ordering millions of our soldiers to help plow foreign fields and sweep the streets of enemy cities. They will all be heroic ambassadors of peace!”

Another roar of approval, louder than any before, shook the arena walls. The bodies were jumping joyously, waving arms, pounding their boots, shouting madly, and then, suddenly, the whole structure of the stadium swayed and wobbled, then began crashing down. The Dictator’s high platform swung back and forth until finally it toppled over into the screaming mouths. Here and there fires started, flames leaping skyward. All the bodies were trapped and roasted alive.

The next day a powerful sandstorm came and covered the bodies and the smoldering rubble and the day after that there was just an innocent-looking hill. A huge flock of pigeons flew over it hourly and splattered it. Thereafter it became known as Pigeon’s Potty, or The Shithouse, or Done Dung Hill. Other, more serious-minded people, called it Nightmare Pimple.

This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s