Free Short Story: “The Difference Lies Not In The Declaration.”

***ABOUT THIS ONE: Just a little something I scrawled down yesterday. I think the title is a little pretentious-sounding, but oh well, it sorta fits. Enjoy!***

“The Difference Lies Not In The Declaration.”

True, he may be a bit full of himself. He can live with that. He’s earned it, and as he exits his Limo, flanked on both sides by security, he knows, knows for a fact, that he has earned all that he has in this world.
The man is dressed in a spotless, lint-less, and downright immaculate jet-black business suit and, as he approaches the pedestal with the authoritative air of a true prophet, he is indeed all business.
Below, far below his mighty pulpit, the onlookers, the sycophants and the apostles, wait with baited breath to receive this week’s lecture from their savior, their chosen one, their light in the darkness, their truth among the lies, their way to salvation.
This man.
“Friends,” He begins, “What a wonderful time we live in! What an amazing and awe-inspiring time to just be alive! Google and a smart-phone, friends, Google and a smart-phone can put almost infinite knowledge at your fingertips, and their is NOTHING artificial about this intelligence!”
The man’s countenance takes a more somber, a more sober, form. He carefully removes his expensive black sunglasses and scans the crowd. Connects with each of them individually with his wide and wise ice-blue eyes.
“But then, there’s that word again, ‘INTELLIGENCE’ So easy to come across these days…”
For this next, the man raises his voice in righteous anger,
In his eyes, a glint of what might either be genius or madness rages on like a Holy Fire,
“My brothers and sisters, we are living in the age of THE BIGGEST-BROTHER! A stalker’s wet-dream! Shit, by the time we all become crazy War-Vets, even our tinfoil-hats won’t be able to keep them out of our heads!”
Now, for effect, he goes quieter,
Before he rambles on, he belches, Portrait Of A Fuck-Up.
“Just one more advancement. Just one more tie to bind us down. Just one more. Then another. Have another, it’s fine! The Answer always seems to be The Cancer, doesn’t it? The media tells us to revel in it. To consume. To feed off of the fat of the land. Feed on it like a glutton, while there is still something left to eat. And, as is our nature, we will let our lights shine
Brighter
And Brighter
And Brighter
Until we all go blind.
Brighter
And Brighter
And Brighter
Until we all, inevitably, burn-out.”
The man pauses graciously as the crowd erupts in applause
And the applause merges to the sound of traffic, spattered with a few indistinct snickers.
“Well, friends, if I have anything to leave you with, any advice to give, it would be this…”
The man looks up and, from the 23rd. floor of The Geico Building, he sees the glint of the noonday sun reflect off of the barrel of a sniper-rifle.
The man looks out and sees a round, red object flying at him.
The cheers of the crowd are silenced by a deafening BANG!
The jeers of the few onlookers sound, to his ears at least, like a pack of wild hyenas, laughing at the pray that they were too weak and lazy to earn for themselves.
Just before the bullet crashes the man’s train of thought, he wishes to God that it did not have to end so soon.
As the bum wipes the rotten fruit from his face and, angrily giving up on trying to better inform this drift of swine, stumbles off of his soapbox to find respite in the fetid and filthy alleyway that is his home, he wonders when it will finally be over.
But, in the end, he knows for a fact that he has earned all that he has in this world.

-Randy J. Woodard

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~ by randywoodard on June 30, 2010.

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