I don’t know why people do what they do, and I have recently decided to no longer try to figure them out. People commit these heinous crimes without a hint of remorse, like the lives they’ve taken are meaningless. They remind me of the Nazis, monsters they are, killing their fellow men like they were bugs being squashed under a brick. Our race seems to crave power…power over animals, power over other humans. And if ruining a life a tearing apart a family is what gets them power, that is what they’ll do.
It was a day that seems to come along once in a millennia: beautiful blue skies that stretched to the ends of the earth, with not a cloud in sight. The slightest breeze could not be felt, and you’d wonder if you could hear a pin drop from a mile away. However, the weather was overcast by the circumstance, for it was the day of a funeral. The crowds had jammed the gates nearly five hours in advance, looking forward to showing their respects to the dead. For the man that lay in the open casket was no ordinary man, but one who once held great power in this land. His name was Theodore Morgan, and thirteen years ago he had been elected President of the United States.
Morgan was a hometown hero of sorts. Fifty-nine years earlier, as high school senior, he had accounted for eleven touchdowns in a football game that sent his team to the state championship. In the championship, in a play that to this day has not lost its details, he scrambled around the field, dodging tacklers, and scored on a 83 – yard quarterback sneak that won the game with thirty seconds left. The play was originally meant to run the remaining time off the clock as the game was tied, but according to him he “just kept on finding holes, making people miss, and running over people until I saw the goal line beneath my feet.”
Morgan was recruited heavily by colleges around the country, but he was determined to stay at home with his mother, who had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease when Morgan was a sophomore in high school. He attended the local university, where his success on the field continued. But he never reached professional potential as a football player, and went into law instead. While in college he married his high school sweetheart, Julia, who loved him so and supported his every move. Even though his mother died two years after his college graduation, he stayed in his hometown for 20 years, serving his community both as a lawyer and as a city councilman. He eventually rose through the ranks, becoming a state senator and then moving on to Congress, eventually getting nominated and elected as President.
He passed away softly during the night, and was to be honored four days later with this grand funeral, at the stadium and on the field where he had stood out so many years ago.
The decorations were not second-rate; the field had been painted with his likeness, and it seemed every square inch of that arena was covered with some sort of flower.
Morgan’s body was dressed in a five thousand dollar black suit, with bright colored flowers filling the spaces to his sides. The open casket was set ten feet away from the stage, and a line of viewers were going by, paying their respects to the dead.
Well that sounds like the start of every story; you introduce a character and make him sound like he’s the most wonderful thing since sliced bread. Fortunately this story isn’t about him. Who knows who its actually about. Well, I do, but you’ll find that out soon enough.
Elizabeth, the daughter of the deceased, caught my eye the moment I first saw her picture on the tube; tall and bold, like the leader she was. Her father taught raised her to be like that, in hopes she would crack every glass ceiling she came across. And that she did; she followed an incredibly similar path to the one her father had taken: going to law school, being a city councilwoman, state senator, congresswoman, and, the most astonishing of all, was elected the first woman President of this grand country. She was in the middle of the second year of her second term, after squashing her opponent in the last election. She had proved time and time again that her gender had no effect on her ability to serve her country. Her approval rate was the highest of any president in the last century. Her plans had turned around the country’s economy from the Second Great Depression, and now we are experiencing growth not heard of since back in the 1990’s.
She was to speak on her father’s behalf, being one of the people that knew him best. This of course meant that security was tighter at that stadium than had ever been before; armed guards were everywhere, no bags were allowed in, and the area had been declared a no fly zone.
And there I was, standing outside the stadium, in the middle of this multitude of people, fearing I met get trampled when they opened the gates. When they did, I slowly made my way to the back of the bleachers, hoping to have a grand view of the crowd and stage. I also wanted the seat close to the bathroom, knowing the regularity that my bladder decides to say hello.
For two hours I sat there, surveying the crowd, pissing everyone so often, and waiting for the service to start. Soon enough, the high school band began playing God Bless America, and the crowd stood and began to sing. After that, and after a brief welcome and a prayer, President Morgan was introduced.
“Good afternoon, my fellow Americans,” she said, solemnly yet with authority. “My father was the greatest man I have ever known, or will ever know. He taught me so much more than I can even know, and more than I could ever repay him for. But now, seventy-seven years after coming into this world, he departs. His lifeless body sits in the casket to my side, looking handsome and strong in death as he did in life.”
She stopped for a moment, seeming almost to want to burst into tears, but she gained control over her emotions, and continued.
“I know he his now in Heaven, looking down on us now. Let us continue in his example, treating everyone we meet with love and kindness, no matter their gender or ethnicity. For all men…and women…are created equal, and none of us have the right to take that equality away from anyone else. My father stood for this principle, as do I. At this time I’d like to have a moment of silence, to pay respects to this great man.”
Some faces had tears, others just an obvious look of sadness, but almost everyone had their head lowered, and seemed to be remembering something. It seemed almost a surreal experience, like everyone was thinking the same thing.
Out of nowhere the noise came; breaking the silence like a bolt of lightning on this cloudless day. People were covering their heads with their hands, as the sound of gunshots continued for what seemed like hours. In reality, within five seconds the shots ceased, but were then replaced by the sounds of high-pitched shrieks. After my ears recovered from the thunderous blasts, I looked up to see the horrible sight. Lying on the stage was the body of the President, with three major holes in her stomach and chest, and the skin of her face seemed to be peeled up above her ears. Also the body of the man in the coffin had been hit twice, both times in the face, causes a large crater to appear, and for his brain to become clearly visible. As the stadium erupted into complete panic, the blood of the slain was pouring onto the stage.