
Untitled
By:
crystalakov on
Oct 17th, 2012 | syntax:
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>2016
>nervously traversing the wastes between my shantytown and my factory job
>can't afford to take the enclosed tollways, must take shattered county roads which are overgrown with weeds due to a lack of investment in public infrastructure
>hear a high-pitched engine whine approaching
>bandits
>look in vain for a police car, know the new private cops don't bother with our safety...not since the unions lost the Walker Wars
>as the group of hooded white supremacists steps out of their hovercraft I think of my twelve children--I didn't want to have them, but after the personhood amendment passed I had no choice
>I raise the cheap gun I use to hunt game, since I have no food stamps anymore
>gun explodes in my hands, covering my face and torso in shrapnel
>Through my agony I remember there are no regulations ensuring proper manufacturing standards anymore
>Hear a throaty chuckle
>The bandit leader speaks: "Guess they sold you a shitty gun, huh? Well don't worry..."
>he raises his Fag Stomping boot
>I roll on my side, see sunlight gleaming off the Job Creator Domes, imagine all the children inside, wondering if they'll ever know how easy they have it
>"The free market will fix it."
>Welcome to Romney's America