Do as I say!

December 19, 2016 Fiction , OPINION/NEWS , POETRY / FICTION

Brian McDermid/Reuters



Jerry Vilhotti



“And what do you propose to do as a drop out, sir?” his father, “The Shuffling Buffalo Old Warrior”, asked; using his condescension in its most contemptuous tone; concerned for this half-son whom he and his wife did not want; coming to them the year after the Roosevelt crash that had some of his close friends jumping out of tall buildings in despair for the money they had lost – that had defined their worth. Men like he who had voted for the golden age of the twenties defeating all regulations put upon them by communists like Teddy The Big Penis Roughrider!”

“Beeebee be a wwwrrr… wrrr.. writer…/ wwh..wwh…hhile mmaaa…mmakkkk…ing lla…lla llats … of …… mmmmmmon… mmmoneeeeeeey,” Byrom Hoover Bush said simply.

“Do you suppose writers can’t read? And your mother tried to name you after Lord Byron! Do you suppose writers don’t eat? Do you suppose our writers asking for money for their tales and craft don’t compromise and bend to our will and rules?” his father said with all the dismissive disgust he could manifest to this stuttering son, a misfit, born to them during the Great Depression that was caused by the person who had betrayed his high station and The Old Warrior would always believe the cripple had stolen four elections in a future chad Florida-like slight of hand. Oh, how he hated all those bleeding heart scoundrels that were destroying his great country by not following fully the rules laid down by his wealthy founding fathers who made sure slavery would be maintained by forcing an Electoral College to stifle a Democracy making sure a popular vote would never not win out.

“So Byrom you are going to fashion your nightmares from incompetence? Between you and I, the riffraff never indeed played a role in our game; moreover, we made them think they were by giving them a so called free education. Nothing is free, Byrom. The teachers we gave the masses came from themselves and we made sure they were women who would not be allowed to marry so they would be content with the small wages we doled out to them. And we would never have allowed their filthy bloody bodies to enter our sacred godly halls of higher learning; indulging them to refine their three R’s in normal schools. Yes, I agree perhaps one out of a hundred became good teachers – a few years brighter than their pupils; nevertheless, we did not fear for they were too few to erase ignorance and stupidity among the filthy mass fools who would die for us for a two dollar medal and a fake trumpet playing Taps!

And my dear Byrom – the dropout – it is the ilk of my kind that rule all the puppets calling themselves politicians, kings and judges. One day we will have a very rich rich man to be our leader of our country and the economy of the world! Do you know son, who could have gone to a private school as your brother Stephen did trumping his way to fortune but refused, that the Second World War did not begin in the forties but rather the seeds were planted in the mid eighteen hundreds when our great country was opening up Japan for its many money making opportunities it presented for our kind. Mark my words my stuttering fool – we shall also take back what that communist F.D.R. did when giving the dying of hunger social security and we shall also stop giving those despicable people with their hands out to pay their own health care so they can die early and leave our good earth a better place for their absence!

Yes my dear son with the crooked tongue – this is the land of the golden rule and gold rules! Check your dollar, sir, and you’ll see on it in Latin – though you can just about read the King’s English – that it says the World Order and the Eye in the Pyramid sees all. Did you know why our Cornell society called “In the Eye of the Pyramid” always had its time piece in The Great Hall five minutes ahead of barbarian time? Because my dear Byrom – we know all! Do you at last begin to begin to see what I am saying?”

Byrom wanted to tell the Old Warrior that it was “between you and me” but Byrom’s head beneath the yoke of silence indicated he would never say another word on that or any other subject as he sucked in his breath out of deep respect for his father.










Jerry Vilhotti

Jerry Vilhotti has had two collections of works accepted by a publisher: “Gods Depicting Pastime” which has the Greek gods discovering a game once played by people – who plastered their bodies with empire blue to be one with the sky and tried to figure out what the tic infested thing was about and the second collection called “Specs in the Eyes of Seeing” that follows a little boy’s journey from childhood to manhood.


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