Fiction

Short stories by Wayne K. Spear.

Kalashnikov’s Umbrella

I have been summoned by the President-elect, Mr. Crusher. He wishes to speak to me of peace. Not only of peace, but of war. And not only of peace and of war, but of the Middle East. You see, Mr. Crusher believes that he can bring peace to the Middle East.

The Ghost of Presidents Future

Mr. George W. Bush furrows his brow, rests his chin in hand. As he floats in the air, his tapping foot touches nothing.
“I was supposed to say something to you about starting World War III. You know, to do it, or to don’t do it. It’s either good or evil, World War III. ”
“So true. I haven’t made up my mind yet, to be honest. Some days I’m leaning one way, other days—.”

A Bigly Christmas

Gather around, children, gather around. That’s right, at my feet, like good patriotic Americans. Kids, don’t sit on the Louis XIV chairs, made of the best 24k gold, okay? Sit here on the marble floor, which my servants will have an easier time sanitizing after you’re gone, which hopefully will be soon.

The Party

– “Look at her,” shouts the Orange Menace. “Look at the loser! So SAD!”
They look. They attack. Now that the party has been given a common theme, a shared purpose, they co-ordinate, like a master switch turning everything on simultaneously. They focus their hate on the young lady and set to the work of tearing her down.