I arrived at the mall parking lot at the appointed time. There I saw all the usual suspects, plus a few faces I hadn’t seen before. Agent 777 smirked at me. “I can’t believe you agreed to this, man.”
“Me either,” I said quite sincerely. Why did I?
When the hood went over my head, I realized it was a bit late to be asking myself that question. There was no turning back. We so often make ourselves complicit in other’s designs, a passive bystander in our own lives. We’ll even let ourselves be tied to giant dollar signs, dressed like Santa Christ, apparently.
I wonder, when it’s all over, will I then use my passivity as an excuse for how Bradley “used” me? No, I have to accept my role in my life... somehow. Everything has been moving too fast to really grab life by the throat and live intentionally. Hands were moving over my arms and feet now, securing and testing the straps.
I wonder, when it’s all over, will I then use my passivity as an excuse for how Bradley “used” me? No, I have to accept my role in my life... somehow. Everything has been moving too fast to really grab life by the throat and live intentionally. Hands were moving over my arms and feet now, securing and testing the straps.
“Hey, uh, guys?” I asked, my voice muffled under the hood. “Do you need to make it so tight? Does it matter?”
“Oh, it matters,” I heard a voice say.
Then another, “it’d be rude not to have a Christmas present for the Leviathan.”
I struggled in earnest then, but it was no use. I may as well resign myself to my fate, as always. It was never my decision, after all.
Then I felt myself being hoisted, the sound of the holiday float coming to life, that deep diesel grumble, the shrieks of what sounded like protesters - amongst that throng of voices I thought I could make out some familiar voices, as well - I heard what I imagined were the police, ordering the protesters to disperse through a megaphone.
Finally, the hood came off, leaving me face-to-face with a mob of screaming white suburban kids, all their slogans blurring together into a word salad nightmare: WE ARE THE 99%--SANTA JESUS DIED BECAUSE YOU TOUCH--OBAMA WAS NOT A BROWN SKINNED--BRING BACK CRYSTAL PEPSI--I SHAVED MY BALLS FOR THIS--HUNGRY, EAT A BANKER!
“Christmas wonderland” blasted from the police loudspeakers, drowning out the protesters gibberish.
A bristling line of cops rolled into their midst as fake snow drifted down from above. Agent 506 winked at me from under his riot gear, right before laying out one of the protesters with his nightclub. Fists and sticks connected with human bodies, and once the chaos had reached its peak, even the protesters were brawling with one another. At that point, all the familiar faces slipped from the scene, leaving a bloody, shrieking mess for the real police, when they finally arrived in response to the second bomb threat that had been called in at this location in the past few months. And there I was, their Christmas lamb, wrapped with a bow.
“Christmas wonderland” blasted from the police loudspeakers, drowning out the protesters gibberish.
A bristling line of cops rolled into their midst as fake snow drifted down from above. Agent 506 winked at me from under his riot gear, right before laying out one of the protesters with his nightclub. Fists and sticks connected with human bodies, and once the chaos had reached its peak, even the protesters were brawling with one another. At that point, all the familiar faces slipped from the scene, leaving a bloody, shrieking mess for the real police, when they finally arrived in response to the second bomb threat that had been called in at this location in the past few months. And there I was, their Christmas lamb, wrapped with a bow.
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