demand.it
I'm a blade of grass, as low to the ground as you can be.
I don't have roots, but dirt is the only thing I know. Dirt and other blades of grass. The sun too, I can feel it's shine. The chill takes over, though, and the wind rushes by me, sweeping over me like it touches every inch of my body, making sure I can feel its cold burn. Unlike the grass though, I don't bend and fall in its presence. I lay strong, sturdy, my rifle balanced on my shoulder as my eye stays glued to the scope.
Down the hill, there's a sea of hairstyles bobbing, moving, complaining about the wind. Ponytails, crew cuts, shaved heads, long hair, they all stand and wait, staring where I stare, waiting for something to happen. Someone yells, "Palin Power!" My teeth grind and I grimace at the crowd. If only I could kill every last one of you.
Nothing happens for a little while and my mind wanders to all the people I'm leaving behind by being here. I can't stop thinking of how much my baby begged me to forget my purpose, the reason I was put on this earth. Makes you feel like maybe she never knew me at all, never knew what I was meant for. Well, I tell you right now – if I believed in God, I'd tell you he put me on this earth so that I could change the world. That's what I'm going to do; what we need now is change. I'm going to change every fuckin' American's goddamn life today.
Feedback from the microphone rings out as its turned on and hits every person including me; you can feel the collective withdrawl. Someone walks on to the stage as people begin to rumble slowly, and the sound builds up from mumblings to conversation to applauding and cheering. All for some stranger who walked on to a stage.
"Thank you for coming out to the Republican rally for John McCain and Sarah Palin!" He pauses, allowing people to applaud again. Of course they oblige this man, the top of his hair so dark and different from the rest of it, it must be a toupee. His jacket is a light brown suede, and I think about how bright the contrast his blood would be over that color. "We are so happy that so many of you from the state of –" he pauses again, looking down at the podium. I smile to myself, thinking about what he must think of us. Fuckin Podunk state 17.
"The state of Virginia. We are honored that you all feel that the McCain/Palin ticket is the one that needs to win this presidential election. As the presidential candidate, John McCain brings a lifetime of service and experience to the White House. As his running mate, Sarah Palin brings a down home, real person connection to each and every one of you with a family, a mortgage, and a full time job. Please help me in welcoming them both to the stage."
My body tenses up as I realize that this is it. People clap and cheer but I hear nothing. I drown it out, focused on the stage, on that podium. In my head, I repeat,
"Change happens because the American people demand it -- because they rise up and insist on new ideas and new leadership, a new politics for a new time. I believe that as hard as it will be, the change we need is coming. John McCain thinks we are a 'nation of whiners' - John McCain just doesn't get it."
They both step out to the stage, my heart beating faster than they can walk. Sarah Palin's dark hair is swept up, like always, her glasses perched on her nose as her full made up face stretches into as far a smile as she can manage. She waves like Ms. America, twisting her wrist back and forth. John McCain wears a dark blue suit that makes his white hair look so much whiter, it reminds me of snow. His smile is subdued and empty, and his cheeks stick out like he's hiding nuts for winter. The pair of them, they look so pathetic. So ready to die.
Palin is right in my scope, waving like an idiot, and with all my might I squeeze one off in her direction. The most awesome thing to watch is how fast that little bullet travels, slicing through the air until it finds its warm body to hide in. Almost immediately after I pull the trigger, her head flops back and she stops waving. Her hand becomes a limp lump of flesh flying through the air as she goes down. It's all so fast, and I pop off two more in McCain's direction as his feeble mind tries to process what's happening. I smile when it zips right through him, and his eyes get wide as he falls backward.
People in the crowd scream and run to their cars; babies cry as their mothers are yelling and trying to gather up the diaper bag and the stroller and the blanket and the cooler and all the other shit they brought because they thought this would be a nice, happy family day. Security guards in all black uniforms hold their small walkie-talkies in one hand, yelling for paramedics. In their other hand they hold their shotguns pointed at the crowd. The man from earlier yells and pleads in the microphone, "Please keep calm and slowly make your way to the parking lots. Please keep calm and slowly make your way to the parking lots. Please, please keep calm."
Meanwhile, I'm slinking off to as far away as I can get – my work here is done. I think of how proud Barack Obama would be of me, proud of the change that I created. The change that I rose up and demanded for. The idea of it all empowers me and I rise to my feet. I am no longer part of the ground and the dirt; I am part of the world! With just one action I was able to change the entire course of history. I was able to ensure Obama's presidency; I was able to change this world.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that someone has noticed me, noticed the gun I carry. I should run, but I don't. The meaning of my life has been carried out. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the team of security runs toward me, a black hazy storm reaching me closer and closer. I turn around and shoot one of them. "Fuck you, you evil, conservative, rich-loving assholes! What we need now is change and I created it!" And then one of them shoots me and I go down.