The Rusty Chain. 

[this story is satire]
A Tragedy.
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[this story is satire]
A Tragedy.

(The year is 2025. Richard and Rhonda Darson are biking along the “cultural trail” that the Peterson Administration built in the year 2005 at a cost of some $20 million. Beyond the cultural trail lay miles of urban decay: crumbling brick buildings, boarded-up houses, slagheaps of various sizes. The Darsons, once affluent but now jobless and living in a hovel in Lockerbie, are dressed in greasy rags, and their bicycles are rusty.)

Rhonda: That Mayor Peterson was certainly a visionary. He and his administration spent millions of dollars on this cultural trail so we can ride our bicycles on it. And some people, at least the ones who are not emaciated from hunger, can jog on it!

Richard: Yes, and the little urchins can play with cinderblocks, broken glass and all the other toys they might find.

Rhonda: Darling, shall we go to the Central War Memorial today, or the Anti-Terrorism Memorial?

Richard: My dear, I would prefer to go to the Hummer™ Cathedral today and worship. I think one of the finest features of this cultural trail is how it has grown over time to connect up with the newest and best militaristic memorials.

Rhonda: Oh yes, my favorite is the Memorial to the Cast of JAG. (The rusty chain of Richard’s bicycle makes a creaking noise as it turns.)

Rhonda: I find that chain quite annoying. If I had any energy, which I don’t because I have tuberculosis and am starving to death, I would pop you one. (The chain breaks.)


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