Friday, June 21, 2013

Despots and Revolution

Despots and Revolutions
Ron Koppelberger
He was disarranged by the demanding wont of a lunatic spree. He had killed the temptation to sunny dispositions for the precipice of sinister woe. The air was cold with the first winter frost and his bare feet crunched in the frozen grass. The feeling was bone numbingly chill, to the center of his feet and radiating up to his ankles. The mass the very center of his being was overwhelmed by the prospect of killing the despotic leader.
He had entertained the idea of assassination for nearly a year now and here he was on the verge of completing his plan. He had striped down naked for the event. He slid between the neat rows of barbed wire and electricity with ease. The inner door to the compound was only a few feet away. The lights came on suddenly and the yard was illuminated in a candent blue glow. Crouching down he prepared to attack. The door swung open and the despot stepped outside into the cool crisp night air. He watched the despot for a moment and stood, he was alone and vulnerable. The despot lit a cigarette and walked further into the yard.
He pounced then, screaming and swinging his fists at the mans forehead. The despot staggered back a few feet and screamed in fear, finally tripping and falling to the frozen ground. He jumped on him in that moment and in a few brief seconds the struggle was over, the despot lay dead at his feet. He was breathing heavy and he was anything but cold, a heat, the heat of excitement washed over him and he knelt next to the despots body.
Stripping him of his uniform he dressed in the dead despots cloths as well as arming himself with the 45 cal. Pistol that he had strapped to his hip.
The man smiled and went to the door after throwing the body to the other side of the electric fence. Looking out the door from the inside he let out a wild lunatic yelp. The dogs were at bay and he would see his country through this time of necessity, he would forget this terrible despot. Turning to the interior of the building he waved the guard close and whispered into his ear, “Our revolution has just begun.” The guard looked at him for a moment and dismissed his sudden suspicion, he looked exactly the same as the despot, identical in every way except his notions of freedom were etched in the blood of the old rule and the promise of a new tomorrow.

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